


killing skating

by tacobar69



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime), 킬링 스토킹 | Killing Stalking (Webcomic)
Genre: Abuse, Explicit Sexual Content, Kidnapping, M/M, Mind Games, Murder, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 07:59:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 37,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9375575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tacobar69/pseuds/tacobar69
Summary: What if Viktor Nikiforov isn't the nice guy everyone thinks he is?  What if Yuuri decides to pay an uninvited visit when his idol isn't home?  This is what happens when I have nothing but YOI and Killing Stalking on my dash.If you haven't read Killing Stalking, this Viktor is way OOC, but he's a serial killer so...yeah.  Mostly YOI canon-verse, set before Yuuri goes home to Hasetsu...if he ever gets there.If the story makes you uncomfortable, uneasy, or creeped out, that's what I'm going for...





	1. killing skating1

**_killing skating1_ **

****

_Hello, my name is Katsuki Yuuri._

_And I don’t know what I’m doing here.  All I know is, this is where he lives_ …

As he bounced around in the back of the battered taxi, the young man nervously rubbed his hands together and shivered.  His breath steamed from his lips, touching his fingertips with the promise of warmth.  Unfortunately, like his dreams of a Grand Prix medal a few months ago, even that promise was defeated.

_It’s almost April, I didn’t realize St Petersburg would still be so cold!_

He reminded himself that he’d survived five years’ worth of Detroit winters.  Then reminded himself, again, of why he’d left Detroit, telling himself that he what he was doing was crazy, incredibly stupid, and most definitely illegal as all hell.

Instead of getting on a plane to go home to Hasetsu like he’d told his now-former coach, he’d booked a flight to Russia.

St. Petersburg to be exact.  Hometown of one Viktor Nikiforov.

_I’m gonna get arrested,_ he thought, swallowing the lump in his throat _.  Stalking…any way you look at it_ …

The cab suddenly stopped, jerking him out of his dismal thoughts.  “Here?” the driver demanded, pointing to street sign that Yuuri couldn’t read.

“Uhm,” he said, holding up his guidebook and trying to find the right phrase.  He’d written down the address carefully and handed it to the driver when he got in the car, but the driver had just glanced at it, grumbled, and tossed the slip of paper on the floor instead of returning it to his anxious Japanese passenger.

“Here!” The driver scowled, holding out his hand until Yuuri nervously pressed a wad of rubles into the waiting palm.  Without asking for his change, Yuuri scooted out the cab.  He shouldered his bag, tucked his chin down against the brisk breeze and started walking.

He couldn’t read the street signs, but he’d saved a map of the neighborhood on his phone.  It was a quiet residential area, older homes looking at him sleepily from behind garden walls and locked gates.  He’d imagined that someone like Viktor Nikiforov would live in a trendy part of the city, somewhere as vibrant and lively as the Russian skater himself.

Instead the stately neighborhood gave way to more disused looking streets, no cars or pedestrians, only the sound of Yuuri’s footsteps echoing against the pavement. There were fewer houses now, all the more forbidding as if their silent facades were condemning him.

“It’s not like I’m going to do anything,” he muttered, embarrassment turning the tips of his ears red.  “I…I just want to introduce myself as a fellow skater. I was too upset after the Grand Prix Finals, he probably thought I was just another fan.”

Brooding on that didn’t make him feel better.  Not only had he delivered a completely underwhelming performance, he’d been too nervous to even introduce himself to the man he considered his lifelong idol. It had been his dream to stand on the same ice with Viktor Nikiforov.  It had driven him to practice his heart out, pushing himself from grueling practices to nerve-wracking competitions that often left him with stomach cramps.

_I can’t just go home without talking to him!_

It was that thought which led one Katsuki Yuuri to do something that could very well get him in deep trouble, probably get him sanctioned if he were found out, if not outright banned.  Using a contact with the ISU, a Japanese former skater herself, he’d accessed Viktor’s home address. A longtime fan of his, someone who understood how he had been deeply inspired by Viktor, and had believed he only wanted to send his idol a gift of the handmade ceramics from his hometown. 

Of course, he wasn’t willing to risk breakage by passing the gift through appropriate channels. It had to be hand-delivered to Viktor by courier.

Yuuri stopped, staring at the house at the very end of the street.  It was a two-story home, rather stern in appearance, surrounded by trees and a thick cement fence. A curved brick entrance was closed by a simple gate, allowing him to look into the yard and see the front door clearly.

He realized that Viktor would probably be angry once he figured out how Yuuri had acquired his address by such dishonest means.  After all, someone like that would never really understand how he felt.  To admire another skater from afar, even to base their entire career on a longing, wistful desire to just be seen as a fellow competitor in the sport they both loved and gave their lives to…  

Taking a deep breath, he went to the gate and gently pushed it open.  Thankfully it wasn’t locked, he didn’t know if he’d be brave enough to jump the fence, but he made himself approach the front steps as if he had a right to be there. 

Just as he reached the top step, there was a loud clang from behind him and Yuuri damned near jumped out of his skin. Seeing that it was just the gate swinging closed behind him, he sighed heavily. 

Going to such lengths to get the man’s home address, admiring him, his performances.  Following his every tweet or post on Instagram, reading every interview, watching tapes of Viktor skating, Viktor giving interviews.  Practicing Viktor’s old routines, even his new ones until he felt like he was one with the music and ice.  Plastering his bedroom walls with pictures of Viktor, dreaming of that face, those eyes.  That impossible combination of grace and masculinity had captivated him first as a young skater, then continued to be the only standard worth striving for.

“Nope,” he muttered under his breath as he reached out to knock on the door. “You’re not a stalker, sure….”

He knocked.  He waited.  He knocked again and stood anxiously shifting his feet like it was all he could do not to dive off the step and bury himself in the ground.  Until it dawned on him…

What if Viktor Nikiforov, living legend and god of figure skating, simply wasn’t home?

“No way,” he breathed, wondering if he’d just lucked out and if he turned around right now, he might not completely humiliate himself.  He leaned over to try to steal a peek in the window, but the drapes were tightly closed.  His knees actually went a little weak in relief.

Just as he thought about turning to leave, he felt a familiar pang in his heart.  All he wanted was to get a bit closer to this person.  Now he was running away again.

His gaze fell on the keypad above the handle on the front door.  Stretching out his hand before he had time to really think about it, he found himself entering Viktor’s birthdate. 

It didn’t work and Yuuri’s eyebrows pulled together in a frown.  Of course not, that would be too easy.  He glanced over his shoulder to make sure that no one was watching him.  The street was still quite deserted. After a moment of thought and biting his lower lip, he entered the date that Viktor had won his first Grand Prix gold medal.

Again, nothing happened and the light on the keypad remained a disapproving red.  He punched in the date of Viktor’s first World Championship.  His first National title.  His first European championship. 

Disappointed, he realized he could go on like this for days.  He was a walking trivia storage of Viktor Nikiforov’s professional career.  There was no reason Viktor might use one of these dates as his key and Yuuri was seriously in danger of ruining his life just because he was dying of curiosity.  To stand inside his idol’s home, if only for a moment, blinded him to things like serious consequences.

Yuuri grimaced, straightening his shoulders and pushing his glasses up his nose. Obviously, he wasn’t meant to be here.  If he was meant to stand beside Viktor Nikiforov in any way, he would have performed better on the ice. He would have found a way to make Viktor notice him even if he had to swing naked from a pole!

As he turned to leave, a bright yellow-green ball at the bottom of the steps caught his eye.  It was a only tennis ball, but after a moment Yuuri’s face brightened.  He was picturing a teenage Viktor, long hair swinging gracefully over his slender shoulders as he laughed at the fuzzy brown puppy in his arms.

_“His name is Makkachin,”_ the young Viktor said to an unseen interviewer _. “He was just born a few months ago, on July 1 st!”_

“Could it be that simple?” he wondered, turning back to enter Makkachin’s birthdate.  The light turned green and there was a faint click as the door unlocked.  A thrill bubbled up in Yuuri’s chest, taking this small victory as proof that he knew Viktor better than anyone could guess.

“Hello, excuse me,” he called out, cautiously slipping inside and letting the door close behind him.  Yuuri clutched his bag close to his chest, looking around with his pulse hammering in his ears.

“Viktor’s house,” he whispered, hardly able to believe it.  In front of him was a staircase leading to the second floor and a hallway leading to the back of the house.  To his right was what appeared to be the living room, he thought, admiring the tidy, minimalist décor.  He felt more than a little giddy, looking at a coffee cup left casually on the brushed steel countertop.

“Viktor was here a just few hours ago.”  Although the outside of the house looked gloomy with the front room curtains tightly drawn, the kitchen was open, airy and full of light from the tall windows.  This was more of what he’d expected and smiled at the mental image of Viktor relaxing on the blue couch, perhaps with Makkachin curled around his legs.  Just the thought made Yuuri sigh happily.

He stepped back into the entryway, running his fingers down the wall as he continued deeper in the house. He suddenly wanted… _needed_ …to see the place where Viktor slept.  If he could manage that, he knew he could be satisfied with these memories.  Not that he’d be able to face his idol after this, but even after he left skating he could always look back on this one day as the day he broke all the rules and touched Viktor Nikiforov’s life.

“His bedroom,” Yuuri whispered, cracking the door to peer inside.  A small, plain room, he was surprised to find.  Nothing on the walls, only a narrow bed pushed carelessly to the side.  He inhaled deeply, trying to ingrain every bit of Viktor’s space in his memory.  Looking down at the bed, he had the overwhelming urge…

_I have to do it!_

He flung himself onto the bed, burying his nose deeply in the pillow.  A pleasant, masculine scent…clean and faintly spicy with an unfamiliar cologne.  There was another scent even deeper, one that had a slight metallic edge, and Yuuri rolled back and forth with complete abandon.

A very naughty thought then entered his mind and feelings that he usually resisted bubbled up.  They were the same feelings that he had when at home in his own bed, looking at the many posters and photos covering his bedroom walls.  Heat built in his body that had nothing to do skating and he let out a soft moan as he curled on his side.

“Oh Viktor, we can’t,” he mumbled into the soft pillow while his hand moved slowly down to rest on his crotch.  “We hardly know each other…”

A loud clang startled him, his hand froze and he scrambled off the bed with his face on fire.  Yuuri trembled, his heart pounding as he stared at the closet door.  For a moment, he’d been terrified that Viktor was walking in on him, but the house remained quiet.  He swallowed nervously as he slowly opened the closet door.

Instead of normal things like clothing or shoes, the closet held a few old boxes, ledgers and discarded household items.  His eyes were drawn to the floor and a large padlock with a key on what seemed to be a cellar door.  Yuuri hesitated. 

_Now would be a good time to leave_ , he thought, knowing he could be discovered at any time.  Still, his curiosity was far more powerful than his good sense and he knew he’d already crossed the line many times.  It couldn’t hurt to just look around, if only to prove to himself that he wasn’t a total coward. 

What could be so important to hide away down there?  He just had to know everything about Viktor.  Even the private things that were never spoken of in interviews or fluff pieces that pretended to dive into a skater’s personal motivation, yet never touched the white-hot core of an athlete’s passion and drive.

He shifted the boxes to the side, clearing the door and carefully removed the padlock.  Under the door were steep steps and an unpleasant smell wafted upwards from the damp darkness.  Yuuri slowly lowered his body into the hole, fumbling along the wall as he stepped down until he found the concrete floor.

It was dim, but he could see a few things from the light from upstairs.  An open toolbox, more boxes, and a thick metal pipe that ran from the floor to the basement ceiling.  Everything else was shadows and he suddenly didn’t want to look for a light, not with that thick smell like urine and sweat, a hint of blood…

“Mmf mmf!”

There was movement near where he was standing, Yuuri stepped to the side. 

A woman’s naked body rolled into the light, her limbs tightly bound as she struggled to move.  He froze, horrified as the woman lifted her head, a blindfold and gag covering most of her face.  She trembled visibly, her round breasts heaving as she fought to breathe.  She was covered in sweat and filth, wearing only a pair of panties, their bright ruffles as out of place on the dirty floor as a flower on a dung heap.

“What the hell!” He tripped over his own feet as he tried to back away, falling with a thud at the woman’s side. 

_Why is this woman tied up in Viktor’s basement?_

_I don’t understand what’s going on!_

Shaking, Yuuri pulled the woman’s gag from her mouth and gently lifted the blindfold.  Her face was wild with terror, her eyes wide and frantic.  She screamed at him in Russian, he couldn’t understand a word, but the screams sent a spike of pure fear down his spine.

“Please calm down,” he begged in desperate Japanese, holding his hands up to show he meant her no harm. “I’m going to untie you.” He reached for the ropes binding her arms.

She shrieked and recoiled, twisting away from him like his fingers would burn.  Her thrashing frankly terrified him and all he wanted to do was to run away, find someplace to hide and not think about what he was seeing.  Everything was upside down, he couldn’t make sense of such a reality where someone had kidnapped a woman and for some unfathomable reason, stashed her in Viktor Nikiforov’s basement.

“I’ll get help,” he said, trying to soothe her, this terrified woman who was now babbling desperately.  He stood up, unable to look away from her pitiful face, tears stinging in his eyes and his glasses clouding in the damp, chill air.

A shadow blotted out the light behind him and the woman screamed again, a long piercing wail that stabbed him like a cold blade in his belly.  Then something heavy hit him and his skull all but cracked from the blow. White light flashed from behind his eyelids and Yuuri fell hard, slumping over into cold and dark unconsciousness.

**_***_ **

_Hurts_ …

Cold had stiffened his body, deepening its way into his bones to the point where the pain of it pulled him back to consciousness.  Yuuri was face down, both arms extended in front, his legs splayed behind him.  From his chest to his stomach and down the length of his thighs, it felt like he was lying on rough ice. For a long, dizzy moment he wondered how bad it was, if he’d missed a jump and cracked his skull open.  He tried to raise his head and immediately felt nausea overwhelm him.

Not good.

Moaning softly, he twisted his hips to shift his weight to the side before rolling over so he was no longer flat on his face.  It didn’t feel like ice under his ribs, it felt more like hard concrete, and when he moved a whole new wave of pain let him feel every scrape and bruise on his battered body. 

_Better to just move slowly_ , he thought, still unsure what exactly happened.  Grimly, he pulled one elbow under him and heard a dull clank.  Raising his hands, he found that he was shackled by both wrists, a heavy chain between them disappeared into the gloom. _Chains…why?_   He shook his head, trying to clear his mind and remember what the hell was going on.  He was in the dark.  He hurt like hell and when he tried to open his eyes he found they were caked by something sticky matting his hair to his face. 

_Blood? My blood?_

“What…what happened to me?” Yuuri’s throat was desperately dry and his head was throbbing.

The only light seemed to be from a crack in the ceiling and he knew he wouldn’t be able to see much anyway without his glasses. Blurry darkness surrounded him, filled with damp chill air and a foul stench that made him want to gag.

_How long have I been here?_ he wondered and reached out across the grimy floor.  Something soft met his fingertips and he flinched away from the touch of cold skin.  A pale blur lying beside him, something fleshy and still.  He leaned a little closer, blinking hard and felt dread well up in the pit of his stomach.

A woman’s eyes stared sightlessly at him, her mouth slack with split lips.  A bit of blood crusted the side of her nose, bruises vivid on her neck, and Yuuri realized with a sudden clarity that she was already dead.

Thrashing away from the body as far as his chains allowed, his screams rang out in the cold darkness for several long minutes. He pulled frantically against the metal cuffs, tearing his wrists until raw blood seeped from his skin.  The fresh pain brought him back to his senses, he caught his breath again with a shudder and began to cry. 

_Somebody help me!_

There was bang when the door above the stairs opened, heavy steps and a tall shadow descending.  The shadow stopped halfway, laughed softly and spoke to him.  Yuuri struggled to sit up, his feet shoving against the floor until his back met the cold pipe.  So scared he could hardly breathe, much less speak, he pulled his knees protectively to his chest.

The figure chuckled and continued to speak in Russian at him, seemingly disappointed when Yuuri refused to answer. Then the man paused, reached upward for a dangling cord and the room lit with a soft click.

Yuuri stared at him, even without his glasses he recognized his captor.  “Vi…Viktor?”

“Da!” Beaming at him like having an intruder and a dead body in his basement was a particularly pleasant situation, five-time world champion Viktor Nikiforov set a black shopping bag on the table and went to stand over the astonished Yuuri.

He hunkered down on his heels, staring at Yuuri interestedly.  “You don’t speak Russian!” he proclaimed in lightly accented English.

“Um…no,” he whispered.

“Hmmm…” Viktor leaned his head on his hand, then pointed a finger at the dead woman.  “Did you come looking for the young lady, then?”  His gaze was sharp as a needle, digging into Yuuri’s skin.  “She screamed for you to save her whole time you were unconscious.  It was very annoying, even when I asked her nicely she didn’t shut up!”

“I…” Tongue stuck to the top of his mouth, Yuuri’s heart raced.  Viktor rose, stepping close to him and Yuuri cowered away. “No…no, I don’t know her!”

“Are you sure?” Viktor smiled and tapped his toe against the dead woman’s breast.  “It might be bad if you were her boyfriend and followed me here.”  Sounding anything but worried, he pressed down on the dead flesh, squishing it obscenely as he wiped a bit of dirt from his bottom of his shoe.

“If we’re to be friends, you should be honest with me.” Yuuri stared in horror as the pressure from Viktor’s foot ripped the stiffening breast until a thin trickle of fluid oozed from under the skin. 

“You weren’t looking for this woman?”

He shook his head, staring miserably back at Viktor.  “I…I’m not lying…”

Viktor spun around and lashed out with his foot, slamming Yuuri’s head hard into the thick pipe.  Pressing the filthy bottom of his shoe to Yuuri’s face, he was suddenly no longer as amiable.  “Then why are you in my house?” he demanded angrily.  “You are here to steal?”

“No!” Yuuri cried, struggling to pull Viktor’s foot away. His face was grinding into the rough surface of the pipe and fresh blood trickled from his lips.  “Stop it, please!” he begged, as Viktor’s heel dug into his jaw. “I’m not a thief!”

Viktor pulled back only to use his full athlete’s strength to kick Yuuri in the ribs.  His vision blurred and Yuuri fell over gasping and unable to breathe. He pushed himself up with his hands only to have Viktor’s foot slam down on the back of his neck, pinning his face to the floor.

“Are you a pervert?” Viktor asked seriously. “Are you one of those pervert fans that like to steal underwear?”

“Shut up!”  His shout was muffled by the dirty floor, but his indignation was clear.  “Look at yourself before you call me a pervert! You killed that woman!”

To his surprise, the brutal pressure on his neck eased. Yuuri rolled over to see Viktor hovering above him, a disturbing glint in his eyes. “So what if I did?” he answered in a mocking tone.  “Can you do anything about it, hmm? Who would believe you?”

Yuuri’s heart went cold, sinking into his stomach.  Viktor Nikiforov, a killer?  Viktor who always stood at the top of the podium, smiling so happily as he waved to his fans and admirers? The graceful athlete, the performer who stunned his audience with surprises and stole their hearts at the same time. Nobody would believe it, Yuuri couldn’t even believe and hung his head in defeat.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered miserably.  “I only wanted to meet you, I didn’t know you were…I didn’t know…” Tears slid silently down his bloodied face, his heart aching.  “I won’t tell anyone, I swear. Please, please don’t…I don’t want to die.”

Viktor smiled, looking quite pleased with Yuuri’s submissive retreat.  “You want to stay with me, yes?” he asked, reaching out to pat Yuuri’s knee.  “I don’t mind, I will even forgive you for breaking into my home…as long as you agree to be a good boy from now on.”

_A good boy? What’s that supposed to mean?_ Yuuri didn’t dare ask out loud, but Viktor wasn’t waiting for a reply.

Instead he went to the shopping bag he’d brought downstairs and started to dig through it while humming softly to himself.  In spite of the dire situation, Yuuri knew that music well.

“Stay Close to Me,” he whispered and then looked up in sudden fear.  Viktor was holding a block of wood in one hand, a heavy mallet in the other.  His expression was so serene, much the same as when he performed his free skate program. In Yuuri’s eyes, that program was pure perfection, showcasing not only Viktor’s considerable athletic skills, but his interpretive talents as he expressed the longing of a man about to be separated from his lover.

Kneeling at his side, Viktor grabbed Yuuri’s foot and slipped off his shoe.  “Even if you tell me you’ll stay,” he said, his voice light and gentle, “you might still try to run away. I can’t let you do that.”

“Don’t touch me!” Realizing what was about to happen, Yuuri kicked and twisted his legs away from Viktor.  He flailed wildly, the chains crashing against the cement floor as Viktor grabbed him by the collar and yanked him up before dropping him hard on his face. His kicking legs were trapped by Viktor’s knee crushing the back of his calves.

“You’re a strong one!” Viktor laughed as he yanked off Yuuri’s other shoe. “That’s good, I like strong ones, but we can’t have any fun if you keep fighting me!” Wedging the wooden block between Yuuri’s ankles, he picked up the mallet and held it high, looking over his shoulder to see Yuuri’s terrified expression.

“You won’t be going anywhere,” he said, his eyes glittering with pure malice.  “Not ever again!”

_He’s going to cripple me!_   Gathering all his strength, Yuuri shoved himself up on his hands and screamed.

“Viktor, stop! Please, I’m a skater too! I was at the Grand Prix Finals with you, I’m Yuuri Katsuki!”

Viktor dropped the mallet, both hands gripped the back of Yuuri’s legs.  His eyes were wide, his expression frozen like a mask dipped in ice.  “Yuuri…Katsuki?” 

He was flipped over on his back, Viktor’s hand in his hair as he was roughly dragged under the light.  Wiping the blood and dirt from Yuuri’s face, Viktor stared hard at him, gripping his chin until more tears welled from Yuuri’s eyes and dripped down his cheeks.  Confusion and rage flickered in Viktor’s clear eyes as he studied the younger man’s face until with a frustrated hiss, he dropped his captive on the floor.

Viktor cursed under his breath and stood up, stamping over to the workbench.  He returned a moment later to seize Yuuri by the hair again, swinging him around roughly for a moment before covering his eyes with a blindfold.

“No,” Yuuri begged, terrified.  “You don’t have to do this, you don’t have to…”

He was gagged by a wad of fabric shoved his mouth, his arms pulled behind his back by chains wrapped tight. Yuuri stopped fighting, trying to breathe through the dirty gag and felt Viktor twist something around his ankles until he could no longer move.  He was left like that without another word, lying bound and helpless on the cold floor of Viktor Nikiforov’s basement.

****

**_/killing skating1_ **


	2. killing skating2

**_killing skating2_ **

This time when Yuuri woke he wasn’t so much disoriented as just completely exhausted.  He’d lost any sense of time, unable to recollect exactly how long he’d been lying on the floor. The gag made him feel like he was being smothered in his sleep, but the absolute fear that took hold of him during those silent waking hours was much worse.  Not being able to see anything, he didn’t know if it was day or night, if Viktor was there or if he was alone.

Once or twice he woke to being dragged around, sometimes by his feet, or sometimes grabbed under his armpits.  And water, he remembered Viktor holding him upright, muttering in Russian while shoving a straw into his mouth. He drank or he got the water poured down his throat with Viktor holding his nose.  It seemed like Viktor was willing to do what was necessary to keep him alive…but not necessarily sane.

So now he wasn’t sure if he was in his right mind when he awoke to find that he was no longer gagged.  His hands were free and he immediately reached up with what little strength he had to pull off the hateful blindfold.

“Oh, so you’re awake,” Viktor said from somewhere behind him.

He turned his head to see Viktor sitting in a comfortable-looking chair a few feet away.  Slouched down, resting his head on his fist with his legs crossed, he looked like he’d been there for some time.  Yuuri sat up, rubbing his eyes and wondering where his glasses were.  That’s when he also noticed that he was mostly naked and wearing nothing but a pair of black silk briefs.

“What the…”

“You pissed yourself,” Viktor answered with a sly grin.  “Don’t be embarrassed, Yuuri. I cleaned up for you.”

His mouth dropped open.  “E-embarrassed?”  Yuuri sat very still, wondering why Viktor was keeping him alive.  Now that he knew the real Viktor, his chances of getting out of this basement were practically nonexistent, but he wasn’t ready to give up yet.

If he wanted to see his family again, all he could do is play along with this psycho and hope like hell there’d be a chance to escape from this house. If there wasn’t a chance, then his body would likely be buried in an unmarked grave outside the city where nobody would ever find it.

His parents would never know what happened to him.

“Aren’t you going to thank me for taking care of you?” Viktor asked in a light voice with a threatening edge to it. He smiled at Yuuri. “I’m tired of your scaredy-cat face already.”

He uncrossed his long legs and stood up, moving deliberately slow to close the distance between them.  Yuuri cringed away, but Viktor grabbed him under the chin, gripping the sides of his face and mercilessly forcing Yuuri to look into his eyes. 

“I said you should thank me,” he murmured, fixing Yuuri with compelling stare. “It’s not so hard, is it?”

_Why…why is he doing this?_ Yuuri shuddered, curling his arms tight to his bruised chest.  _What does he want from me?_   _If I don’t answer, what will happen?_

“Thank you for taking care of me,” he whispered, forcing the words out like their taste was bitter.  He was sweating in the chilly damp room, outright sweating from fear and anxiety.  Under pressure he always had a problem keeping calm, keeping the worst thoughts from echoing inside his head, repeating over and over…

_I’m going to die! I’m going to die! I’m going to die!_

“Please let me go, okay?” He could no longer hold back and begged Viktor pitifully. “I’m not going to go to the police, I just want to go back to Japan.  I’ll…I’ll quit skating and you’ll never see me again.”

It was the wrong thing to say and Viktor slapped him across the face.  “I didn’t say you could quit skating,” he said, his voice cold with anger. “Don’t let me hear you say that again, little piggy. That’s your answer, to quit when you get scared?”

_It’s your fault I’m scared_ , he thought, resentment welling up inside him.  He was so scared that he was close to tears and the taste of blood filled his mouth. Viktor hit him hard enough that the inside of his cheek felt like hamburger.  All he could do was force down the fear and anger, staring fixedly at the ground as if waiting for it to open and swallow him whole.

“Oy, so boring,” Viktor murmured, tired of watching Yuuri tremble in silence.  “If I give you clothes, maybe you will be less scared?” Without waiting for an answer, Viktor leaned down to ruffle Yuuri’s hair, teasingly gentle.  “Come, don’t be stubborn, Yuuri. Go on, just ask me!”

He had no choice but to do as he was told. “Please give me clothes.” Feeling the sting of Viktor’s mockery, he was a mouse being toyed with by an overgrown cat, batted from side to side until too tired and scared to escape. Yuuri grit his teeth. He had to keep his wits about him and somehow keep Viktor entertained.

“Was that so bad?” Viktor retrieved a brown paper bag from behind his chair.  He seemed excessively pleased with Yuuri’s obedience, like he’d been waiting for a chance to reward him for good behavior.

_There has to another reason he’s so happy_ , Yuuri thought, as Viktor smiled at him with enough charm to seduce a more miserly heart than his.

“Here, put it on.”

The bag landed in his lap and Yuuri opened it, pulling out a handful of soft fabric. “Huh?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself, it’s not ‘huh?’” Viktor’s mouth was smiling, but his eyes were not.  “You heard me, put it on.”

Yuuri got to his feet, trembling.  _Fine, if he just wants to humiliate me, I’ll play along_.  He pulled the smooth fabric over his head, grimacing as the sleeves were way too tight and the bodice didn’t fit his chest.  Miserable, he pulled the skirt down, trying to cover himself. It was pink, sequined, and an old-fashioned cut, but Yuuri felt like a stuffed sausage in this women’s figure skating costume.

He had to look ridiculous.

Viktor doubled over, laughing until tears ran from his eyes.  “You look like a fat ballerina,” he gasped, pointing Yuuri’s stomach which stretched the fabric to the point it looked about to burst.  “Who would coach you when you look like that, eh?”

“Coach me?” Yuuri was baffled, backing away when Viktor came closer.  He was suddenly seized and pulled tightly into Viktor’s embrace.

“Isn’t that why you came to see me, little piggy?” Viktor asked, their faces so close that his warm breath whisked across Yuuri’s cheek.  “I was surprised to see you go so far, even breaking into my house to get my attention.”

“I…I didn’t…” Yuuri stammered when Viktor slid his hand under the skirt.  His legs went rigid as the roaming hand gripped his bottom, squeezing and kneading the flesh none too gently.  Viktor’s other hand held the back of his head, sliding his warm fingers along Yuuri’s spine as if mapping out the best place to break his neck.

“Maybe being your coach is just an excuse?” Viktor asked, his sultry whisper making Yuuri’s pulse race and his legs tremble.  Amused by Yuuri’s quivering response, Viktor gently bit his ear, nibbling his way along like the taste was irresistible.  “Be honest and tell me, now.”

_He’s crazy, something is wrong with him_ , Yuuri thought, hanging limply in Viktor’s arms.  “No,” he finally said, too dizzy to guard his words. “I…I can’t ask you to coach me, Viktor.  I’m…sorry…I don’t even know if I want to skate anymore, I just…”

He was violently pushed to the floor. “You came here to waste my time then?” Viktor shouted, angry and eyes flashing.  Swooping down, he dug his fingers into Yuuri’s chest, shredding the thin costume until it hung from Yuuri’s body like rags.

“Stop it!” Yuuri screamed, desperate to get away from the man tearing into his skin.  He swung wildly and grazed Viktor’s cheek, infuriating him.  Viktor punched him in the stomach, slamming his body down and knocking the air from his lungs.  As Yuuri gasped helplessly, Viktor went down on one knee to wrap his hand around the younger man’s throat, pinning him until his face turned red and he scratched desperately at Viktor’s fingers.

Just as Yuuri was seeing stars and felt his body go slack, Viktor eased up.  “That’s better,” he said softly over the frightened, panting Yuuri.  “Don’t be so stupid as to make me angry. I’m not so patient with someone who played me for a fool.”

Lying on his back with his limbs splayed to the sides, Yuuri could only follow Viktor with his eyes.  Misery and pain left him weak, unable to stop the spasms that shook his abused body. Viktor loomed over him as a deadly vision, pale hair falling over his flushed face, eyes glassy and fists clenching repeatedly like he was still strangling Yuuri in his mind.

"Yes, Viktor,” he forced himself to say.

“Good!” The tension lifted and Viktor beamed at him. Moments ago, he’d barely been able to stop himself from murdering Yuuri in cold blood, but now he was all warm sunshine and roses.

_It’s like he flipped a switch_ , Yuuri thought, swallowing his dismay.  He couldn’t keep up with the man’s lightning changes.  He’d admired Viktor for his ability to surprise and delight his audience, keeping them guessing, on edge and waiting for his next move.  Now face to face with the depths of that volatile temperament, he was stunned to see that Viktor’s darkness was every bit as powerful and compelling as his pristine performances on the ice.

“You look like you’ve got something to say,” Viktor chided him, holding out an elegant palm as if inviting Yuuri to be his partner.  “Should we start over with our discussion?”

Viktor pulled him over to the pipe, humming to himself again, but this time Yuuri couldn’t place the music.  Listening closely, he thought it might be a new piece, maybe something Viktor commissioned for a new program. In spite of himself, he was curious and didn’t resist when Viktor slid the metal cuffs over his wrists.

Their eyes met and Yuuri ducked away.  Had he missed his chance to get out of here?  No, Viktor never gave him an opportunity by taking off the cuffs…it was only to tease him with the illusion of freedom.

_He’s not going to let me go, he’s going to leave me in the dark again!_

He stiffened when Viktor knelt in front of him, casually raising Yuuri’s legs over his own and squirming close until Yuuri was nearly in his lap.  It was embarrassingly intimate, like two lovers wrapping around each other for a heated kiss.  Noticing his flustered expression, Viktor gently pushed the hair away from Yuuri’s face, trailing affectionate fingers down his cheek.

“Now we can get to know each other better,” he said, his sensual tone at odds with the cold metal against Yuuri’s back and on his wrists.  “I want to know everything about you, so hold nothing back.”

Under other circumstances, he would have been thrilled to have Viktor Nikiforov holding him like this.  For the last ten years, he’d driven himself to the limits of his ability just to stand on the same ice, hoping for nothing more than recognition, or at the most a friendly camaraderie between athletes.  Now his idol was right in front of him, eyes twinkling like crystal on snow as he produced a single skate blade devoid of its boot.

“This blade is old, so it’s not so sharp,” Viktor said apologetically as he held the edge to Yuuri’s throat.  “I have to press quite hard to break your skin, but that’s the punishment if you lie to me.”

“When…” Yuuri began and immediately shut up when he felt the edge dig a little deeper into his collarbone.  He had a feeling that Viktor was quite capable of sawing into him like a chunk of meat.

“Now tell me, Yuuri…why did you come to see me?”

Yuuri swallowed, looking fixedly over Viktor’s shoulder and trying to ignore the sharp pressure of the blade.  “I wanted to meet you,” he finally answered.

“Go on. Tell me why?” Helpless to stop himself, Yuuri glanced up and looked into Viktor’s eyes.  His handsome, maybe beautiful appearance had always thrilled Yuuri just as much as his athletic ability.  He knew he lacked that kind of charm, the magnetism that a truly outstanding skater needed to seduce his audience. He never thought he’d be this close to Viktor.

He never thought he’d want to run away this bad!

“I’ve always looked to you,” he finally muttered.  _I didn’t know you were like this!_ “Since I started skating, you’ve always been my idol.”  It was the truth, he couldn’t try to hide it.  He was too exhausted to pretend some kind of false pride.  Viktor had probably guessed the truth anyway. 

“Since you were young, eh?” Viktor lazily traced Yuuri’s throat with the toe pick.  “So I had long hair back then, is that what you liked?”

“Yes,” he answered, trying not to think about the blade so lightly scratching his skin.  He heard Viktor snort in amusement and flushed again.  “No…no, not what you think,” he started, shaking his head frantically.  “I meant that I admired your performance, not just your looks!”

Leaning in on him, Viktor pressed the sharp edges of the skate into Yuuri’s shoulder.  “It’s not fair,” he said, teasing Yuuri’s stomach with his free hand.  “You used to think about me all the time, didn’t you?” He sighed dramatically, letting his hand drop between Yuuri’s legs. 

“Not like that,” Yuuri whispered, then shrieked when the blade bit deeply into his skin.  Viktor inspected the thin parallel cut he’d left. 

“I told you that lies would be punished,” he said, squeezing Yuuri’s balls tightly.  Yuuri whimpered and shook his head again.

Viktor laid the blade to Yuuri’s chest just above his right nipple.  “Now don’t be silly,” he said, making small horizontal cuts as he continued to fondle Yuuri through the black silk briefs.  “Did you think of me when you touched yourself?” He pressed his lips to Yuuri’s ear.  “Did you have your girlfriend touch you when you were thinking of me?”

“I didn’t have one,” he choked, feeling heat rush to his crotch, unable to keep himself from getting hard.

“Really?” Viktor sliced across Yuuri’s abdomen while tightening his grip on the younger man’s penis.  Yuuri shuddered helplessly, tears running down his face and nodded miserably.

“And you were lonely?” Viktor’s wistful question caught him off guard, diverting him from the stinging pain and the aching of his dick.  _Lonely?  I never thought so_ …

Because he’d had a dream, a goal shining in the distance to reach for.  He’d had Viktor.

“Even at night, Yuuri?” He gulped, unsettled by the hungry look in Viktor’s eyes.  It was like he could see into the past, deep into private moments that Yuuri wouldn’t have admitted to if he wasn’t under this kind of pressure.

“Sometimes,” he whispered, hating the way he was being bullied, hating Viktor for think he had the right to peel him bare like this.  He jumped when Viktor tossed the blade away, bringing his hand to cup Yuuri’s face.  Stroking him gently, strumming Yuuri’s body with his fingers, Viktor leaned close to brush Yuuri’s lips with his own.

“I’m going to teach you,” Viktor said softly, as Yuuri bit back a moan.  “I’ll show you where it is, Yuuri, that lustful side of you that sleeps.  And when you find it, you’ll want to show it to the world.”

He shuddered again, his dick surging between Viktor’s fingers.  Holding the briefs tight over the head, he rubbed the wet silk until Yuuri clutched at him, bucking his hips as the inside of his thighs gripped Viktor around his waist.  It’s wasn’t enough, but it was too much at the same time and he whimpered into Viktor’s chest.

“Don’t cry,” Viktor soothed, wiping the sweat away from his forehead.  “You can come for me, right? I want to see your _eros_ , Yuuri.  Show me that face I want to see.” 

He waited another moment while Yuuri’s face turned even more red, sweat on his skin mixing with the delicate tracks of blood seeping from his chest and shoulder.  He looked utterly obscene, a hot mess of tears and slick need writhing under Viktor’s hand.

“That’s enough.”  Yuuri was suddenly pulled forward, Viktor’s mouth on his, cutting off the gasps and cries that remained trapped in his throat.  He couldn’t breathe, gasping and moaning against Viktor’s lips when he was suddenly squeezed tight and released frantically into his captor’s hand.

Yuuri collapsed on Viktor’s shoulder, unable to hold himself upright.  His head was swimming, but he heard Viktor’s voice murmuring in soft Russian.  He stayed limp as Viktor removed the cuffs and lifted Yuuri’s arms over his shoulders.

“Hands,” he said, gathering Yuuri close to pick him up.  Yuuri wrapped his arms around Viktor’s neck, holding tight around his waist with both legs.  Viktor lifted him easily, heading towards the stairs.

 “I think you need a bath, Yuuri.”

**_/killing skating2_ **


	3. killing skating3

_**killing skating3** _

 

There was a knife in his hand, Viktor’s knife.

Yuuri was finding it hard to concentrate because Viktor was so close to him, the soft breathing practically steaming in his ear.  His warm hands rested on Yuuri’s hips, holding him close while the heat of his body radiated into Yuuri’s back.  The rest of Yuuri was growing a little clammy, fresh out of the bath with damp hair clinging the back of his neck.  His feet were starting to the feel the chill on the kitchen floor as well, toes curling defensively as he stood next to the stove.

Viktor rested his chin on Yuuri’s bare shoulder.  “That’s not the right way to hold the knife, Yuuri.  Didn’t you say you knew how to cook?”

He shrugged, trying to win another inch or two of personal space.  “This is how I do it.  If you want a personal chef, then why don’t you go find one?”

Viktor went still behind him and Yuuri wanted to bite off his tongue.  He shifted his hips, reminded of the shackles on his ankles and the short chain between them.  Talking like that would get his ass back in the basement, which was what he wanted to avoid, no matter what.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his grip tightening on the sharp knife.  “I can cook a few things, not many.”

Relaxing, Viktor leaned into Yuuri heavily, pressing tight and leaving him no room to breathe, let alone cook.  “How about I teach you,” Viktor said, running his hand down Yuuri’s arm until he grasped the knife in Yuuri’s fist. He flattened his other palm on top of Yuuri’s left hand, bunching the green onions together.  Gently rocking the knife, he sliced the vegetables deftly.  When finished, he slid his hand back up Yuuri’s arm.

“You are too tense,” Viktor remarked, rubbing Yuuri’s shoulder.  “Just relax and it will come to you.”

_I could stab him_ , Yuuri thought, looking down at the knife left in his hand.  _It would be easy, Viktor wouldn’t expect it right now.  Even if I manage to just wound, him, I’d be able to get away_.

He’d have to be lucky and so far, Yuuri hadn’t felt like fate was on his side at all.

“At least the apron hides that belly,” Viktor said cheerfully, resting his foot on the chain between Yuuri’s ankles.  “A lot of skaters eat when stressed, Yuuri.  Not me of course, but you should find a better outlet.”

_Like your outlet?_ he thought angrily. _I really should stab him_.  Yuuri found himself biting down on his tongue, adding chopped vegetables to the soup that was one of his mainstays during training.  It wasn’t his favorite, but when Viktor had asked what he liked to eat when training, this was all he could think of.

_“You cook,”_ he’d said, smiling like he hadn’t been the one to confine Yuuri bound and helpless for days.  _“I want to watch you, this way I learn about you too.”_

“Yuuri…”

He was spacing out again and Viktor clucked his tongue, sounding like a mother hen and smiling wickedly.  Lifting the knife from Yuuri’s paralyzed fingers, he pulled him close.  “Did you want me to finish what we started in the bathroom?”

_The things that happened keep coming to mind…it’s hard to even think doing anything else_ …

Viktor had carried him up the stairs, all the way to the bathroom at the end of the hall.  Holding him gently with Yuuri’s arms over his shoulders, Viktor stripped away the sticky underwear and helped him into the tub.  Right then Yuuri’s knees gave out, sinking into the cold porcelain of the old-fashioned bathtub.  He was in shock, humiliation and pain fighting for control of his body and brain.

“Hey, Yuuri.”  Viktor turned the handle of the faucet, holding the shower head over the tub.  The water was icy cold but soon warmed as Yuuri hid his face behind his arms, sputtering.

“Put your hands down,” Viktor said, amused.  “I can’t wash you like that.”  Yuuri flinched as the warm water sluiced down his hair, spraying his face, chest and lower body.  He shivered and tried to cover himself, but Viktor pulled his hands away.

“Is the water pressure too strong?” Viktor asked, directing the spray toward Yuuri’s crotch.  “Here,” he said, kneeling down to watch Yuuri closely, pressing a bottle of body soap into his hand.  “You do it.”

Awkward and unable to make himself look up at Viktor, Yuuri squeezed the soap into his hands.  He washed himself, scrubbing his hair, neck, and armpits, working his way lower as Viktor followed his movements. The warm water ran over his skin as he resolutely washed his legs.

“I think you’re forgetting where to wash,” Viktor said in such a teasing tone that Yuuri looked up in anger. The shower head dropped with a clank into the tub as Viktor took Yuuri’s soapy hands in his own.  Unembarrassed and grinning, he guided Yuuri’s hands, rubbing and fondling between his legs.

Yuuri tried to push the invading hands away.  “Come on, I can do it myself,” he pleaded, but Viktor showed no interest in stopping.  Grabbing under one of Yuuri’s knees, he lifted and spread his legs.  Yuuri held on to the sides of the tub, anxiously letting Viktor do as he pleased.

_He’s not hurting me, he’s just trying to scare me into fighting back_ , he told himself, keeping as still as possible.  Viktor’s warm hands were slippery, massaging his testicles and sliding repeatedly between his buttocks.  He jerked with surprise when a finger prodded daringly into his tightly clenched opening.

“You have to take care, Yuuri,” Viktor whispered softly, exploring deeper as Yuuri let out a low whimper of protest.  “Have you properly washed this place before?”

“Not…not your business,” he gasped out, his face beet red and burning.  He felt dizzy, the sound of the water echoed in the bathroom, his back sliding down in the tub until he managed to brace his free leg against the tiled wall.  Viktor’s fingers twisted and turned inside his body, a full measure of embarrassing sensation flooded like liquid heat between his legs.  Viktor brushed his fingertips along Yuuri’s inner walls, making his hips quake almost seductively.

“What an inexperienced child,” Viktor said, the gentle tone gone from his voice.  He was staring fixedly at Yuuri’s spread open flesh, watching his own fingers violating that pink and quivering backside.  “If you get this excited over just a little touching…”

_I gotta make him stop_ , Yuuri thought, squirming against the relentless stimulation.  Forcing himself up, he reached for Viktor’s shoulder, missed and touched the top of his head with his fingers.  Viktor paused, finally looking up again when Yuuri’s hand nervously ruffled his ash colored hair.

“Viktor, please let go,” he begged earnestly.  “It’s too much and I’m…I’m scared.”  The truth was he was scared of how far Viktor was going to go, if he was going to find himself bent over the edge of the tub and taken from behind.  After seeing the naked dead woman, he was purely terrified that Viktor would just as easily dispose of him once he’d finished playing with his body.

The coercive fingers went still, then slowly slipped from his aching ass. Rinsing his hands and looking lost in thought, Viktor stepped back to allow Yuuri to clean himself up.  He couldn’t tell if Viktor was disappointed, angry, or just thinking about how best to torture him next when a soft towel dropped over his head.

He stayed perfectly quiet as Viktor roughly dried his air, so distracted and distant suddenly that Yuuri started to think he’d made a huge mistake.  _Maybe I should have just let him do what he wanted_ , he thought, realizing again how vulnerable he was, how insane Viktor Nikiforov really was…and how fearing for his life was starting to feel more and more normal.

Viktor took his wrist and pulled him to his feet. “Finish drying off,” he said in that cold, emotionless voice that made the hair on Yuuri’s neck stand straight up.  He couldn’t move, his hands clenching the towel, stupid and numb until Viktor spun around angrily.

“Hurry up, so you can go back down!”

He clambered out of the tub quickly, slipped on the wet floor and went down on his knees.  Desperate, he clutched Viktor’s leg and grabbed for his hand as the other man tried to shove him away.

“Viktor!”

Yuuri was panting with fear, real fear of being dropped back into darkness.  “I’ll do anything!” he pleaded, meeting Viktor’s cold gaze.  “I’ll do anything, so don’t put me down there!  The basement’s too dark and stuffy, I don’t like it!”

He pressed his face to Viktor’s leg, squeezing his eyes shut and hoping that somewhere, there was a hint of basic human decency left in the five-time world champion skater.  “Please don’t leave me there…please…”

Viktor shook him off, turning on his heel to stamp out of the room.  Dreading what would come, Yuuri managed to get to his feet. 

_I’m gonna die_.

Rubbing the towel over his body, his heart raced wildly as panic filled his throat.  _I’m gonna die!_ His hands unconsciously clenched, arms shaking as Yuuri fought to control himself.

He hadn’t gotten to the Grand Prix this last year because he was weak.  He had people back home, people who cheered for him every time he went on the ice.  For their sake, he had to survive and make it back.  He forced himself to breathe deeply, pushing the panic back down so he could think.  This was how he managed during a big competition, it was how he made himself focus now.

Holding on to the towel as his only cover, he crept to the bathroom door and poked his head out.  Yuuri held his breath, stepping forward silently.  There…at the end of the long hallway, just past the staircase was the front door.  It was probably locked, but if he kept his wits he’d bet he could get it open before Viktor came after him.

He was naked and he knew it wasn’t warm outside.  There was a gate that hopefully wasn’t locked, or he could jump over it if it was.  Then the street, other houses about a block away, even if it was usually quiet, how quick would Viktor be to chase his bare ass down the street like a jilted lover?

“You have to try,” he breathed, crouching slightly as he approached the door with feather-soft steps.  Yuuri paused to glance over his shoulder and felt his stomach melt when there was nobody behind him. 

_Go now!_

Yuuri bolted from the hallway, ready to throw himself on the door like a drowning man on a life preserver when the floor jumped up to meet him, brown and hairy with a long rolling tongue.  He was so surprised that he lost his balance, falling hard on his back with a noisy crash.

Something pounced on him enthusiastically, licking and wriggling its large, fluffy body on top of Yuuri.  He grabbed the soft face, evading kisses of greeting.  “Vi…Vicchan?”  He rolled over, sitting up with the large dog still planted on him.  “No, you’re much bigger than Vicchan.”

_Could he be_ …

“Makkachin,” Viktor’s voice scolded behind him.  “What did you do to Yuuri, that’s not how to say hello!”  
dropping to one knee, he affectionately rubbed the dog’s ears.  “He’s too friendly, just like me,” Viktor sighed as Yuuri’s eyes grew wide in disbelief.  The surrealism of the moment left him shook.

Viktor gently nudged Makkachin away, pulling the still nude Yuuri into his embrace.  “So,” he murmured, resting his lips in Yuuri’s hair.  “Were you going to go out the door?  And after saying you’ll do anything…”

He took Yuuri by the shoulders and turned the terrified young man to face him.  “Do you want to go in the basement?” he asked, his voice light and smiling sweetly as he traced Yuuri’s lips with his finger.  “I thought you wanted to stay up here…with me.”

“I do.”  Yuuri swallowed hard, his mouth gone dry as dust and his stomach twisting.  “I wasn’t going to run away…I…”

“Shhh…” Viktor’s fingers pressed against Yuuri’s lips, silencing him.  “I have to be able to trust you, Yuuri.  If I don’t take you downstairs, you’ll be a good boy, yes?”

Without waiting for his reply, Viktor stroked Yuuri’s hair affectionately and slipped his shoulder under Yuuri’s arm to help him up from the floor.  He couldn’t resist as Viktor guided him to the sofa near the kitchen, setting him down and kneeling at Yuuri’s feet. Taking in Yuuri’s ashen expression, the glazed look in his eyes, Viktor suddenly laughed, shaking his head and patting Yuuri’s knee.

“Don’t look at me like that, it’s too funny,” he smiled, rubbing Yuuri’s legs like he was trying massage some life back into his captive.  “You look like I’m about to peel your skin off and have you for my dinner!”

Pleased with himself, Viktor pulled a box from under the sofa.  “Come,” he said, genial and upbeat again, switching back to the kind, friendly Viktor that Yuuri knew from years of watching his interviews, the famously engaging world-class athlete. 

_Perverted freak! Murdering bastard molester! Liar, fake, phony monster!_   His body limp, his heart sickened, Yuuri was at his limit.  He could only watch as Viktor pulled out a faded pair of running shorts.  He slipped them over Yuuri’s feet, tugging them up the other man’s thighs.  They were a snug fit and Yuuri flushed as Viktor looked him over critically.

“It will have to do,” he murmured. 

Yuuri closed his eyes.  _It’s like he’s twins, each with a different personality_ , he thought, trying to keep his breathing calm and his body limp. _No, not twins but I can’t keep up with him_.  One minute cheerful, the next angry, Viktor swung from lustful to cold, from gentle to cruel like a piece of music changing keys, playing the same song but with a dissonance that left the listener unsettled, afraid…

The was a soft clink and Yuuri opened his eyes, his face going pale again as Viktor fit metal cuffs around his ankles.  The chain was short and Yuuri realized this was the alternative to have his legs broken. 

“And this!” 

A leather dog collar dropped into Yuuri’s lap, thick and large enough for a man to wear. Viktor was smiling happily, waiting like he expected Yuuri to be just as pleased as himself.  “Put it on, I had to go all over the city to find one like this!”

He was appalled, as furious as he had been terrified.  “No…I don’t want to!”

Viktor leaned forward, smiling still, but with an unsettling threat in his eyes.  “Do it.  Don’t make me angry again, Yuuri.”

His hands were shaking a little now.  The leather was soft, but still thick enough to be awkward when he put it around his neck, wishing that he was back in Hasetsu, anywhere else really.  Viktor sat patiently observing, making no move to help Yuuri as he struggled to buckle the collar.

“That looks quite good on you,” Viktor murmured, tracing his fingers from the collar down Yuuri’s chest.  He touched the shallow cuts on Yuuri’s shoulder, torso, and belly, finally edging between Yuuri’s knees to rest his head on his chest.  Viktor slipped his hands around Yuuri’s waist, caressing his skin in little circular movements until Yuuri shuddered.

“I can hear…your heartbeat,” Viktor whispered into his skin.  “It’s racing so fast, are you excited by me, Yuuri Katsuki?”

_Try terrified_ , he thought looking up at the ceiling.  _I can’t make him angry!_   Slowly, extremely slowly, he forced himself to reach up and touch Viktor’s hair.  It was surprisingly soft, slipping between his fingers like strands of smoke colored silk. He found himself liking the way it felt, the warmth of Viktor’s cheek on his skin and he wondered what was happening to him.

“Let us make a deal,” Viktor said at last, pushing himself back so he could look into Yuuri’s eyes.  “I will be your coach from now on.  I will train you, I will choreograph your programs, but you have to do everything I say.  That means no running away from me and you will have to practice very hard.”

“So…” _He really wants me to do this_.  “And if I do what you want, you’ll let me go?” Viktor’s eyes darkened slightly and Yuuri hastily added, “To the events to compete against other skaters.  You’ll go with me as…my coach?”

“Well, of course,” Viktor answered, sounding surprised. “If you don’t compete, what is the point of coaching you?”  He grinned at Yuuri, eyes sparkling.  “You will win the gold medal at the Grand Prix Final this time, with me standing by your side as your coach!”

_I can escape!  I just need to make it until the first meet of the season, then I can get away from him!_   He forced down his excitement, dropping his eyes obediently.  “Okay, Viktor. I’ll do whatever you say.”

“Good!” Viktor jumped up and actually spun around on his toes, gracefully extending his hand to Yuuri with a flourish.  “If I can’t make you a champion, you truly have no hope!”

_Thanks_ , Yuuri thought, his mood already lifting at the slim possibility of living through the next few months.  _And you’ll be the one in chains long before the Grand Prix, Viktor, I swear it!_

Taking Yuuri’s determined expression for his agreement to the proposal, Viktor pulled him to his feet.  Draping an arm over his now-compliant student and captive, he guided him to the bottom of the staircase and faced the front door.

“We just have to set a couple of ground rules,” he said, his arm slipping around Yuuri’s waist.  “First of all, no slacking off.  You have to get back to your competition weight as soon as possible or I can’t put you on the ice.”

_What ice?_ Yuuri could hardly contain his glee, realizing Viktor would need to take him out of the house to a rink.  “Yes, I understand.”

“Second,” Viktor continued, still holding him as close as a lover.  “You can stay up here as long as you keep the chains on your legs.  I will take them off for workouts and practices, but if you try to run away…” The threat was implied and Yuuri knew what he meant.

“If I do, I go back in the basement.”  _Just you wait_ , he thought savagely, _I’ll escape the very first chance I get!_  

“Exactly,” Viktor purred, sounding like a big, happy tomcat.  “Just so you don’t get confused, there is one more thing you need to remember.”

He stomped his foot on the chain between Yuuri’s ankles, giving him a brutal shove that sent him falling helplessly to the floor.  Yuuri caught himself on his hands and knees only have Viktor kick his arms away so that he was flat on his chest.  He didn’t dare move, frozen while Viktor crouched over him and slammed a large butcher knife into the hardwood floor.

“Don’t cross this line,” he said, his knife leaving a deep gouge.  “Right where the stairs start. And if you do…”

Viktor grabbed his hair, lifting his chin off the floor and holding his head back with his throat fully exposed.  “I’ll pull your neck back and slice it up.”  He held the back of the blade to Yuuri’s skin, sawing gently back and forth.  “Nice and slow, I’ll slice into this soft place below your chin.  You won’t even be able to see it if you look in the mirror, but by then you’ll be bleeding to death.”

Yuuri’s head fell forward when Viktor let go and hot, terrified tears slid down his face, dripping to the floor.  The euphoria he’d felt for a moment had vanished, Viktor’s darkness enveloping him and spreading into every corner of his mind.  There was no way, no way he’d escape even if Viktor said he’d go the Grand Prix, Yuuri’s despair knew better.

_He’ll kill me before that, I know he will…what’s the point_ …

“Hey.”

Yuuri flinched, forcing himself to look up at Viktor, who was standing over him with one hand on his hip and the other still pointing the knife at him. “I’m sick of that expression already.  Can’t you smile instead?”

He forced a wretched smile to his lips and Viktor sighed, running his hand through his hair as if exasperated by Yuuri’s timid, fearful response.

“We’ll work on it,” he said, turning away and heading for the kitchen.  Yuuri sat on his knees, rubbing his nose and sniffling back the sobs that wanted to tear their way from his chest. He stared at the long scratch on the floor, then at the door only a few feet away.

Outside that door, freedom and life.  On the other side of the line, Viktor’s insanity and certain death.  Himself trapped between, all he could do was go along with Viktor until the day he tired of playing coach, tired of playing with Yuuri, and brought this nightmare to its inevitable end.

“What are you waiting for?” Viktor stepped back into the hallway, wearing a dark blue apron, his hands behind his back as he tied it in place.  “Come on, come on, it’s time to eat!”

a/n: yes, that’s Sangwoo’s apron that Viktor’s wearing…lol

**_/killing skating3_ **


	4. killing skating4

_**killing skating4** _

With a fear born of desperation, Yuuri sprinted up the basement stairs.  They were narrow and steep but he barely took a breath when he reached the top.  Diving from the closet at a full run, he dashed down the hallway and up the stairs to the next floor.  He ran back down as quickly as he could, but this time when he hit the corner he skidded on his bare feet and ran into the wall. 

The collision just knocked the wind out of him so he shook it off and ran for Viktor’s bedroom only to find Viktor coming up the basement stairs with a stopwatch in his hand.

“Too slow again,” he announced, giving Yuuri a condescending smile. “Really, did you stop to go to the bathroom?”

Ready to heave on the floor, Yuuri glared at him.  “It’s the tenth time already!” The game was for him to sprint all the way to the second floor from the basement and back before Viktor could walk up to meet him.  Yuuri had a suspicion that not only was he being tested to see if he’d make a break for the door, but also that the time he had to make it back downstairs was getting shorter.

“You were the one who said that you could keep going,” Viktor serenely reminded him.  His exercise options were limited due to the fact that he wasn’t allowed to leave the house.  Every time he passed the long gouge in the floor he felt the chill of steel against his neck.  He knew that Viktor was waiting for him to try something, to make a mistake so he could punish him.

“I’ll do it as many times as I have to,” Yuuri muttered, wiping his sweaty face on his arm.  Viktor raised an eyebrow, but stepped aside to let Yuuri head down the stairs.  Yuuri’s stomach twisted in knots just going down to the room where he’d been kept chained to the pipe, a visceral dread that kept him obedient more effectively than threats of physical punishment.

Not that there wasn’t physical punishment.  As he stepped into the dim mustiness, Viktor slid behind him to slap his backside with purely punitive force.  Yuuri cried out and spun away while his tormentor just flopped into the waiting chair.

“Do fifty push-ups and fifty sit-ups, then run in place until I tell you to stop,” Viktor said, not even looking up at the already exhausted Yuuri.  “And don’t be lazy, hurry up with it this time!”

Stung, he directed his anger into his workout, dropping immediately to the floor without question.  It took everything he had not to attack the living legend of figure skating, focusing most of his frustration on the dream of kicking Viktor Nikiforov in the face and running for his life.  Revenge and fear were consuming his entire world.

“You’re huffing like an old man.” Viktor edged closer until he could rest his feet on Yuuri’s shoulders.  Leaning his cheek on his hand, he watched Yuuri’s arms quivering as he fought to continue moving. 

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, Yuuri.”

“What?” Sweat was dripping into his eyes, making them burn as he tried to focus. “I’m doing what you told me, right?”

Viktor crossed his ankles, resting the weight of his legs on Yuuri’s left shoulder.  “Even if you do as I say, you are still planning to escape?”

Yuuri stopped moving, his body shaking under the strain as he held himself off the floor.  “I haven’t tried to escape,” he said, ducking his head away.  He started to feel a little nauseated, his body already near its limits and the stress like barbed wire twisting around his muscles.

_He’s worse in the basement_. Another reason he hated training down here.  Upstairs, Viktor was easier to get along with even if he made Yuuri take over all the household chores of cleaning and cooking. Yuuri was already fed up with playing house, pretending to be friends, or even a normal coach/athlete relationship.  Not that he had much choice, not if he wanted to keep Viktor happy.

Down here, Viktor became demanding and impossible to please, a dictator bent on enforcing his rule.  Yuuri had already been reduced to a trembling, exhausted mess as he tried to keep up.  He’d never been pushed this hard and it made him angry, but his only chance of escape was to get back on the ice.  And that wasn’t going to happen until Viktor was satisfied.  Keeping that hope alive was the only way Yuuri had to keep his calm instead of blowing up in frustration or fear.

“Have I done something wrong?” He knew he hadn’t, but that wasn’t important.  What was important was keeping Viktor’s mood from going bad.  That was all he was worried about right now. Yuuri dared to look up and saw that same intense look in Viktor’s eyes...that look of his said everything.

The atmosphere was completely terrifying and he needed to be very careful right now. Viktor’s heel dug into his shoulder and Yuuri caught his breath, bracing himself. 

“Planning to escape is the same as trying to escape.”

“I’m not,” Yuuri said, wincing as the pain spread down his shoulder to the muscles in his back.  “You said you’d be my coach, so why would I try to run away?”

“You won’t leave me, then?”  There it was again, that strange and wistful expression that made Yuuri feel like there were butterflies in his belly.  Viktor’s gentle smile was so beautiful it made him ache and he wondered again what it meant.

He took a deep breath. “I won’t.”

It was a lie, but it was the right thing to say as Viktor brightened.  “That’s right, I’m your coach.”  He lifted his legs much to Yuuri’s relief and stood up to stretch leisurely before flashing a smile.

“Enough with that,” he said, waving his hand at Yuuri still crouched on the floor. “Upstairs now, you must be hungry.”

He was starving, but more than that, Yuuri was grateful to have diverted Viktor’s attention.  He followed up the stairs meekly, trying to appear calm, appear happy like he wasn’t imprisoned by a psychopath.  Deep in his heart, he saw himself running away, maybe pushing Viktor down these same stairs and bolting for the door.  Somehow though, thinking of Viktor’s body motionless at the bottom of the steps gave him a strange pang, like part of his heart was stricken numb.

_Would anyone believe me?_ Lost in thought, he hesitated on the steps.  _They’ll think I murdered him, or worse if he survives, that I’m a crazy stalker who attacked him!_

Above him the cellar door suddenly closed and Yuuri yelped, throwing up his arm to keep the door from crashing down on his head.  The door slammed anyway and he was in darkness.

“Viktor!” He pounded on the door, shoving with both hands when it wouldn’t budge.  “Don’t leave me down here!”

For a long, cold moment, there was no sound, no movement above him and Yuuri held his breath. Viktor knew he was terrified of being left down here, he used the threat on a daily basis, throwing it casually in his face at that at any time he could reduce Yuuri to a panicked state. 

_Stay calm!_ He fought for control, squeezing his eyes shut and taking deep breaths. _Don’t panic, not now!_

“Please?” he called out, knowing that Viktor wouldn’t have gone far.  Not when he was expecting Yuuri to scream and beg.  “I didn’t mean to make you angry.”

The door opened and Viktor leaned over the opening, smiling.  “I’m not angry.”  He held out his hand, the look in his eye daring Yuuri to reach for him.  “Why would I be angry?”

_That’s what I want to know_. Yuuri grabbed Viktor’s hand and let himself be helped to his feet.  Viktor smiled brightly, but Yuuri no longer trusted that smile.  As soon as he turned away, Viktor’s arms were around his waist, his lips just inches from Yuuri’s ear.

“You were thinking of something, weren’t you, Yuuri?”  He’d gotten used to Viktor using any excuse to touch him, as uncomfortable as it was, he’d prefer it to being screamed at or shoved back into the basement. Since he’d started training, Viktor hadn’t tried anything more than furtive embraces or whispers in his ear that left Yuuri tingling.

“I just…” He couldn’t think when Viktor held him like this, his brain went fuzzy and he felt the blood rising in his face. “I…I wasn’t thinking about anything, Viktor.” 

“Maybe you were having naughty thoughts of me,” Viktor teased, ruffling Yuuri’s sweaty hair.  Yuuri tried to duck away from the casual touch, but Viktor hooked a finger under the dog collar and dragged Yuuri back to his embrace.  “No fair running away, Yuuri.”

“I just want to take a shower,” he pleaded, pushing Viktor’s hands away.  He flinched as Viktor grabbed his sore shoulder.  _Come on, be reasonable_ , he thought, desperate to escape before the teasing got more aggressive and dangerous.  “I’m sore from today, you know.”

Viktor sighed, letting him go with reluctance.  “Fine, I get it.  Go have your shower…no, wait,” he added, heading for the closet again.  Waiting a little anxiously, Yuuri watched him rummage through the boxes that were tucked away in the corner of the closet. 

“Here you are,” Viktor said, presenting Yuuri with a small box of salves and sports creams.  “If you’re sore, try some of these.”

He took the box, holding it against his chest as he headed for the bathroom.  Relief so strong it was almost a tangible force washed over Yuuri as he shut the door behind him.  The box fell to the side, contents rolling across the floor as he collapsed, his shaking legs unwilling to hold him upright even one more moment. 

Yuuri squeezed his eyes shut as he rocked himself, desperate to get some kind of control over his tumultuous emotions.  It was too much, the stress of spending every single day wondering if it was going to be his last.  One moment he was angry and defiant, the next he was ready to wail and scream from the overwhelming pressure of being Viktor’s prisoner.

“I want to go home,” he whispered, getting his ragged breathing to quiet.  “I want to sleep in my room, I want to eat my mother’s cooking.”  Thoughts of more peaceful moments, spending his days with his family or practicing alone at Ice Castle, slowly calmed him and some of his distress eased.

_I need to take a shower, he’s not going to leave me alone in here very long_.  He got to his feet, grumbling a bit about the sore muscles, and stripped out of the shorts and t-shirt Viktor had given him to wear around the house.  He hated the clothes, the shorts were way too tight and the ugly striped t-shirt left his lower back and stomach exposed. Still, they were all he had and he dutifully picked them up from the bathroom floor.

Under the shirt was one of the sports creams and Yuuri picked it up, gathering up the rest of the contents of the box.  Among the topical creams, he found a small bottle about half full of tablets and recognized them as a muscle relaxant used sometimes to treat sports injuries like sprains.  Dumping the rest of the creams in the bathroom sink, he sat down on the toilet with the bottle in his hands.

_Can I…can I use this on him?_   It was a scary thought, Yuuri felt sick at the idea of trying to poison someone, anyone…even Viktor.  _No, I don’t have any choice, not if I want to get out of here.  Besides, it’s not really poison.  If I can just knock him out, I can call someone for help.  They’ll see I didn’t have a choice, even if he…if he_ …

He was still trembling as he used the shower, taking deep breaths to steady himself as he quickly washed up. _I can do this…I have to do this!  Oh god, what if he catches me_ … Getting dressed in the same clothes, the clammy feeling of his own damp sweat against his skin, Yuuri scowled at his own reflection in the mirror.

“Don’t look so scared, he’ll figure it out,” he muttered, shoving the pills into the narrow pocket of his shorts.  He was pale from stress, pinched with dark circles under his eyes.  He looked like a stranger without his glasses and Yuuri swallowed hard, thinking that even his own family might not recognize him, not with this scared and haunted face.

“Yuuurrii…”  He heard Viktor calling his name down the hall.  “Aren’t you done yet?”

“I have to do it,” he whispered to himself.  _Jus_ _t act like normal, don’t give anything_ _away!_   He nervously pushed his hair off his forehead, practicing a more natural smile. He still looked sick, not like he could hide it, but it was all he had.

***

“You wanted to make something special for me?”  Rather than suspicious, Viktor was delighted to the point where Yuuri felt a twist of unexpected guilt.  Neatly arranged on the kitchen table, a simple meal waited for them.  For Yuuri, it was the usual steamed vegetables and fish, but for Viktor he’d prepared a family specialty.

He’d taken it as a sign of good luck that Viktor had nearly everything he needed, but he’d had to experiment a bit until it tasted passable.  Also, he needed the cutlet sauce to be a little stronger to hide the chalky taste of crushed medicine.

“It’s not that special,” he hastily said, looking at the floor.  “I just thought you would like it.  My mother always made it for me after I won a competition because it’s my favorite.”

“Really?” Viktor grinned at him.  “So you haven’t had it in some time, yes?”

The hint of guilt disappeared.  “That’s true,” he answered, forcing his ‘natural’ smile again, hoping that Viktor wouldn’t sense something amiss.  “It’s been years since I’ve been back to Japan.”

“Ah yes,” Viktor said, leaning his elbows on the countertop as he continued to smile charmingly at Yuuri.  “Your family runs a hot springs inn in a place called Hasetsu, right?”

_How the hell…why does he know that?_   Yuuri swallowed, nerves setting in made his palms clammy.  He could feel the weight of the empty pill bottle in his pocket, its touch heavy against his hip.  “I’m surprised you know where I’m from.”

“I think I heard it from someone at the last Grand Prix Final,” Viktor told him, watching Yuuri so closely that he took a couple steps backward from the table.  Closing the distance easily, Viktor leaned over him until Yuuri almost stumbled and ducked his head.

“Why so afraid, Yuuri?”  He stood perfectly still, staring over Viktor’s shoulder at nothing.  “I thought we were getting along so well.”

Yuuri held his breath when Viktor reached under the apron, skimming over his hip just above where the pill bottle guiltily sat waiting to be discovered.  Viktor’s hand curved up the small of his back and Yuuri shivered with a sudden chill, wanting with more with every moment to shove himself away.

“You’ve been so obedient, even showing me your smile,” Viktor murmured, each word falling into Yuuri’s ear like a drop of ice.  “Does it mean you’re getting used to this?”

Still standing way too close, Viktor reached behind Yuuri to take his meal from the table.  “It looks so delicious,” he said, admiring the appetizing dish.  “Stop being so nice to me all of a sudden, you’re making me nervous!”

Yuuri couldn’t say anything, his mouth was quite dry.  All he could do is stare as Viktor lifted his fork, stabbing gently into the fried cutlet, its succulent juices dripping right in front of his eyes.  His heart was pounding, even as the tempting aroma teased him with memories of home, he felt like he might pass out from panic.

_He’s doing it_ …

Viktor’s lips parted, blowing on the steaming food.  Yuuri was dizzy with excitement, pure adrenaline and fear twisting together in his belly like dancing snakes.

_He’s doing it!_

“Ah, I can’t,” Viktor said, glancing up at him with a bashful grin.  “You should have it, Yuuri.  You’ve worked hard, you deserve this treat.”

_Why isn’t he_ …

Viktor gently pushed the bowl into Yuuri’s numb hands.  “I know you made it for me, but I want you to eat it instead,” he said, using the fork to scoop up a huge bite.  “You said it was your favorite.”

He ducked away from the incoming fork, catching Viktor’s confused frown as he managed to avoid the mouthful being forced on him. “I don’t…I don’t need it,” he said, his voice flat and strained.  “I just wanted to make you someth…”

“You seem to be smiling a lot lately…I wonder why?”

Yuuri held the bowl to his chest so that Viktor couldn’t see that his hands were shaking.  He felt like an ant under a magnifying glass, sweat starting to trickle from the nape of his neck down between his shoulders.  There was nowhere to run and the walls started to close in around him, smothering Yuuri until he felt like was drowning in his fears.

Taking in Yuuri’s frozen expression, Viktor chuckled softly.  “You want me to eat it that bad?”  He dipped his finger in the sauce, seemed to contemplate tasting it for a moment before smearing it down Yuuri’s cheek.

“You go first,” he ordered, stabbing the fork hard into the bowl.  “Then we can both smile.”

Yuuri’s arms went limp, the bowl hit the floor with a clatter, startling Viktor enough that he jumped back to avoid getting smashed pork cutlet on his feet.  Horrified, Yuuri could only stare at the mess of his plan before diving to the floor.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he babbled, using his hands to scrape up sauce-covered rice and meat.  “I’ll clean it up right away, Viktor.  Don’t be mad, I just…”

Viktor dropped to his side, his hand on the back of Yuuri’s neck.  “Didn’t I tell you to eat it?” he asked, shoving Yuuri’s face into the mess.  “Something you made just for me shouldn’t be wasted!”

“Please, no!” Yuuri begged, struggling to get up and covered in sticky glop.  He wailed loudly as Viktor held him down by force, holding his mouth open to stuff it with wrecked _katsudon_.  Unable to breathe with Viktor’s hands clamped over his face, he still tried not to swallow until he started to pass out and could no longer resist.

“Don’t choke to death,” Viktor bit out, holding Yuuri’s head up by his hair.  “Eat the rest for me, little piggy. Clean up all this tasty food, right now!”

Weak and scared, he forced himself to swallow what was in his mouth, trying not to cough and gag too much from what had already been choked up.  _What should I do_ …

_If I confess now…will he forgive me?_

He wiped his mouth and stole a glance up. Viktor’s eyes were on fire, his smile this time like a scar on his face as he purely reveled in the pain and humiliation he inflicted. Those eyes delighted in his fear, his abject misery and despair.  A shiver of ice went down Yuuri’s spine, measuring his last remaining dregs of dignity against the belief that even if he didn’t survive the tainted meal, Viktor was absolutely capable of much worse.

_If he finds out I not only tried to escape, but also tried to poison him_ …

He dragged his fingers through the disgusting mess, using both hands to shovel it to his mouth. Viktor watched him silently until he managed to choke down most of the ruined meal.  At last he sat crumpled on the kitchen floor, silent sobs shaking his shoulders and his face covered in with tears, snot, and sticky sauce.

_If he finds out, he might break my legs,_ Yuuri thought, eyes focused on nothing as he sat limp and defeated.  _He might even cut off an arm or a leg…but isn’t that better than dying?  I don’t know_ …

“If you’re done,” Viktor said, tossing him a wet dish towel from the sink, “you should probably clean it up right away.”  He smiled brightly.  “I don’t like to let Makkachin get into human food, you know.”

Playfully, he leaned down to drop a kiss on Yuuri’s smeared cheek and licked his lips.  “It’s a little salty.”

Whistling cheerily to himself, Viktor headed out of the kitchen, completely dismissing Yuuri and the rest of the mess on the floor.  Slowly, Yuuri made himself move, methodically wiping up the remains of scattered rice and smears of sauce.  He got to his feet, keeping his eyes down as he rinsed the towel and continued to tidy the kitchen. 

He was already feeling sick, he could tell the pills were starting to affect him and his fingers were stiff and clumsy as he wiped the dishes.  A stabbing pain in his stomach made him groan, covering his mouth so that Viktor wouldn’t hear.  Yuuri leaned against the sink until the dizziness eased, wondering if the pain would get worse before he lost consciousness.

_I’ve need to throw up, it’s the only way_ , he thought, feeling weak and tingly all over.  Yuuri dragged himself up, holding tight to the countertop because his feet felt like clubs of meat.  If he could make it to the bathroom, he could be sick all he wanted.

_Is Viktor still in the basement?_   Clutching his belly, he staggered out of the kitchen, holding on to the wall as he made his way towards the stairs.  Ahead of him was the front door and it suddenly struck him that Viktor was nowhere in sight and there were no chains on his ankles.

“If I take this chance,” he breathed, “I might make it.”  His breathing was ragged and he couldn’t feel the floor under his bare feet.  Yuuri took a step, then another, swaying slightly as he pulled himself forward.

_Huh…it’s not so far, is it?  Why’s…why’s the door tilting?_   He found himself on the floor, unable to move as Viktor’s footsteps fell upon the stairs, not from basement though, from the stairs that led to the second floor.  Yuuri pulled his gaze upward, catching sight of Viktor’s smiling face just moments before it slipped into darkness.

_**/killing skating4** _


	5. Chapter 5

**_killing skating5_ **

 

Even if he’d wanted to remember anything, the next few hours were nothing but a blur.  Yuuri was floating, his body light and drifting within soft pastel clouds.  All the pain and uncertainty drained away so peacefully that he couldn’t believe it was real.  There was no more darkness, no fear and no more regrets.

Well, maybe one or two.  He’d never know if he could have won that gold medal he’d dreamed about, or if he could have found it inside himself to take his skating to the next level.  It was sad to see it end so soon, to fade away without giving everything he had.  Isn’t that what really hurt the most?

“You stupid idiot!”

_Viktor?_

Sensation returned unwelcome to his body as a wave of nausea swept over him, filling his insides with ice and sudden, violent retching.  Helpless, he was unable to move when Viktor grabbed his arms and pulled him across the room.  He was dumped hard on the bathroom floor, almost blacking out when his face hit the cold tiles.  Yuuri couldn’t even hold himself up, the smell of his own vomit curdling in his nostrils until he started to heave again.

Icy water blasted him, drenching him from head to toe.  The shock was pure pain, like an electric jolt that flooded his nervous system with more than it could stand.  He coughed, gagging and sputtering pitifully until Viktor shut the water off.  For a moment, it was sweet relief and he wanted nothing more than to sink back into unconsciousness, but Viktor hauled him upright by his wrists.

“Stop…stop it,” he whimpered as Viktor yanked his shirt over his head, rough and urgent.  Naked and shivering uncontrollably, he couldn’t stop the tears that were leaking from the corners of his eyes.  This was it.  This was the end and he knew that even if he begged and apologized from the depths of his soul, the rest of his life probably would be measured in minutes.

“Stop crying so much,” Viktor muttered, pulling Yuuri into his arms and lifting his limp body.  He was carried to the bedroom where Viktor hesitated for a moment in front of the closet door.  Too weak to struggle against the inevitable, Yuuri just hid his face against Viktor’s chest, squeezing his eyes tightly shut until he heard a heavy sigh.

Instead of carrying him down the stairs, Viktor set him gently on the bed and covered him with a blanket.  He stroked Yuuri’s hair, letting the dark strands slip through his fingers and the frustration was clear on his face.

“Sleep for now,” he said, patting Yuuri awkwardly as if he wasn’t used to taking care of anyone.  “I’ll put a bucket next to the bed if you need to be sick again.” 

The door closed behind Viktor as he left and Yuuri was finally was able to let himself slip away into a restless sleep.  Once, he woke in the dim room, heart pounding, the sheets under him damp from sweat.  There had been a scream and the sound of something heavy hitting the floor.  Yuuri stared at the closet door, waiting…waiting.  The silence thickened around him, almost a tangible presence hovering in the air. Huddled against the wall, Yuuri buried his face in the pillow, trying to put distance between himself and the closet door.

_This isn’t happening, it’s a nightmare.  I just want to wake up…_

***

Yuuri felt like he’d slept for days when he finally opened his eyes to light pouring in from the open door.  Sitting up, he rubbed the crust from his eyelids and grimaced at the sour taste in his mouth.  Surprisingly enough, his body felt normal, his mind clearer than he’d expected under the circumstances.  Whatever he’d taken had worked its way out of his system and he felt profoundly relieved to still be alive.

“Do you feel better now?” Viktor appeared in the doorway, a glass of ice water in his hand. 

 “I…” It was hard to speak, his throat felt sore and dry.  “Yes, a little.”

“You look better now, not so sickly,” Viktor commented, setting the glass beside the bed.  Leaning over, he reached to touch Yuuri’s cheek with fingers that were cool and slightly damp.  Without thinking, Yuuri grabbed for his hand, pulling it away from his face.  He nervously dropped his eyes as Viktor made no move to take his hand away, cupping their fingers together in Yuuri’s lap. 

“What, is there something you want to say to me?”

Yuuri shook his head, afraid to say anything.  _Why isn’t he angry? He knows what I tried to do!_

“C’mon, say it,” Viktor teased, squeezing Yuuri’s hand and making a show of affection. “I promise I won’t be upset with you, whatever it is.” 

_What does he want me to say? If I confess…what will he do to me?_ He bit down on his lower lip, unable to form an answer. Viktor frowned, growing more impatient as Yuuri guiltily avoided his gaze.

“No?” Like a little boy annoyed with a playmate, he started counting down to pressure Yuuri for a response.   

“5…4…3…2…”

“Can I skate with you soon?” Yuuri blurted out, his ears going bright red.  In his panic, it was all he could think of that might distract Viktor.  He didn’t want to talk about why he was sick in bed and he didn’t want to ask what Viktor had been doing during that time either.

It worked as Viktor’s eyes widened slightly and he let go of Yuuri’s hand.  “That was not what I expected,” he said, a silly, pleased grin on his face.  “I was wondering what you were going to say, but you surprised me again, Yuuri.”

He managed a weak smile of his own, a real one this time and full of relief.  Viktor leaned over him, planting his hands on either side Yuuri’s hips as he drew closer, trapping him under the blanket.  “So, is that what you really want…to skate with me?” Viktor asked. “You aren’t hoping if I take you outside, you can escape?”

Yuuri shook his head.  “I won’t,” he said, determined to keep his calm, make no mistakes.  _I can’t mess up again!_   “I really do want to skate with you.”

It seemed to convince Viktor. “It’s fine, it’s fine,” he said easily, leaning back to give Yuuri some space. “You must be tired of staying in the house all this time.  I understand, I feel it myself when I don’t skate every day.  You were training in Detroit for the last five years, yes?”

“I decided to leave when I graduated college,” Yuuri answered, feeling very self-conscious to discuss his career with Viktor .  It gave him a fluttery twinge in his stomach, something different than the fearful worry and dread that had consumed the past ten days .

“What made you leave?”

“I just…”  It was hard to talk about, even now.  How he’d felt he’d let Celestin o down, let himself down too.  All that hard work, the hours of practicing until his feet were bruised, of striving to perfect his program and make it to the ultimate goal of competing in the Grand Prix Final only to have it all turn to ash in his hands.  To disappoint himself and those who had stood behind him for so long left him feeling lost and confused, unable to recover the rest of his season.

“I felt like I needed some time away,” he said at last, unable to meet Viktor’s eyes.  “ I lost confidence in myself, that’s all.”

“Lost confidence?” Viktor appeared puzzled, such a concept was completely beyond his comprehension.  “And what reason would you feel like that?”

“I don’t know, he said quietly, embarrassed.  “I’ve always struggled with it.” Yuuri didn’t expect Viktor to understand, someone like him would never be nervous before a competition.  He just wanted to crawl under the blankets and hide his face.  The heat was creeping up his neck and he ach ed to stop talking about his worst vulnerability with the very person holding him hostage.

“Hah, what kind of story is that, Yuuri?” Sitting on the edge of the bed, he leaned across Yuuri’s legs and rested his chin on his hand.  “Pretty boring, I’d say.”

“What?” Yuuri snapped, sudden temper getting the better of him.  Viktor stared at him curiously and he flushed, dropping his eyes.  His hands twisted the blanket.  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

“That’s okay,” Viktor replied with a soft laugh, as if everything Yuuri did was endlessly amusing to him .  “Come, let me tell you something interesting.” Sitting up, he leaned closer to Yuuri, his lips slightly parted in a gentle smile, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“You know what, I hate guys like you the most,” Viktor said, his soft voice turning brittle with contempt.  Yuuri’s face went even paler, his mouth dropping open in hurt surprise.  Viktor gripped his chin when he tried to duck away, fingers bruising his jaw as Viktor forcefully held his attention.

“Guys that are too scared to win, but are always complaining.  Too absorbed in pitying themselves to do anything.” Viktor’s words froze inside him and Yuuri felt the temperature in the room drop as if a window had opened into an icy blizzard.  In such a weakened state, every word was a needle under his fingernails, unbearable and piercing to his self-esteem.

“Stop going on about how insecure you are,” Viktor said, releasing Yuuri before callously shoving him down on the mattress. “I hate that shit.”

Yuuri didn’t dare to move, lying still with his arms at his sides and barely breathing.  He blinked quickly, eyes burning as was the back of his throat.  Too scared to win, always complaining, it was like Viktor had just found his secret fears and read each one aloud.  As if he knew all Yuuri’s dark moments, like when he’d cried his eyes out in the bathroom after the Grand Prix Final, how he’d completely lost it at Nationals. This wasn’t how he wanted to remember his skating career.

It wasn’t fair, not what Viktor said and not the way his words made Yuuri feel stripped bare, raw and naked for anyone to see.  A quiet ball of anger built in his chest, a trembling need to fight back.  It was frightening , this kind of intensity wasn’t anything he’d ever felt before.  Shoulders shaking, he clenched his fists and attempted to bring his boiling emotions under control.

_Even after what he’s done, I still want Viktor’s approval?_

“Then…” His voice broke and Yuuri stared desperately up at Viktor.  “Then…what should I do?”

_What’s wrong with me?_

Amused, Viktor lifted Yuuri’s hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to the inside of Yuuri’s wrist.  With a distinctly sensual smile, he caressed Yuuri’s arm from wrist to elbow, tickling the sensitive skin with his breath and feathery kisses until Yuuri shivered, the twisting and fluttering of his stomach made it impossible for him to defend against Viktor’s advances .

“You wanted to know what you should do, right?” Viktor asked, sucking sweetly at Yuuri’s flesh until it blushed a delicate shade of rose. Yuuri thought his bones were probably melting from those heated marks.  He told himself that it was just his lack of experience that made him react like this.  Who wouldn’t be a little moved to be seduced in such a way?

Viktor had already been seducing him for _years_ …

“Ah…I can’t…”  Yuuri struggled to say something, but the words didn’t want to leave his tongue.  He was a fool to fall under this man’s spell again, even now that he knew the truth.

Viktor’s teeth sank into the soft flesh below his elbow.  Yuuri cried out in pain and shock, yanking his hand violently from Viktor’s grasp.  Gingerly, he touched the throbbing bruise, a deep bite just shy of breaking the skin. 

“What’s wrong with you?” he yelled, furious and filled with loathing for Viktor. “That really hurt!”

“As much as coming in last at the Grand Prix Finals?” Viktor asked, grinning and unrepentant. “As much as failing at the Nationals?”  He pressed close to Yuuri so that their faces were only inches apart.  “It’s been a long time since I lost in competition, Yuuri.  Why don’t you tell me what it feels like?”

Yuuri tried to shove him away, but Viktor clamped both arms around him, hugging him tight.  He fought back, struggling angrily as he cursed and grunted, but he couldn’t get any leverage with the blankets twisted around his legs.  Finally, he was left panting on his belly, pinned under Viktor while the taller man trapped his arms beneath him.

“Tell me,” Viktor whispered in his ear, mockingly gentle.  “Did it hurt when you lost?  Did you cry alone afterwards?  If you don’t like those feelings, my little piggy, maybe you should make yourself win.”

“Let me go!” Yuuri no longer gave a damn if Viktor killed him or not.  “ Get off me, you freak!”

“That’s not very nice,” Viktor chided him, grinding his fingers into Yuuri’s shoulders as he held him face down on the bed.  “You really are a handful sometimes. First you make excuses, then you get angry when I ask you why.  I don’t want to be rough with you, Yuuri, but you make it difficult for me.”

_I make it difficult for you?_ Yuuri didn’t know whether to scream or cry and exhausted by their brief struggle, it was tempting to just give up. _He’s never going to let me go, is he? He’s just going to torture me until he gets bored with playing coach!_

“I wonder if this is a good enough answer,” Viktor murmured, nuzzling the back of Yuuri’s neck.  At the moment, Yuuri felt anything but aroused by the contact, wishing only that he had the strength to fight back and give Viktor the beating he absolutely deserved. 

Keeping Yuuri’s hands trapped, Viktor rolled him face up so he could straddle his body on the bed.  Yuuri scowled and refused to look at him, his jaw tight and furious.  Viktor snorted in amusement at the sight, letting his weight rest on Yuuri’s pelvis until he finally saw a wince of discomfort.

“Do I have your attention now?” Yuuri wanted to slap the smirk off Viktor’s face, all the humiliation of his time under Viktor’s control was seething from his pores.  Forcing himself to look at his captor’s grinning face, he raised his eyes and tried to sound both calm and reasonable.

“What do you want, Viktor?”  He was asking on every single level.  Was Viktor just playing with him, manipulating his body for his own entertainment?  Was this all leading to Yuuri’s inevitable and painful death one day in the basement when Viktor tired of him?  He’d worked so hard to get his body back to competition weight, struggled through discomfort and his own terror as he tried to meet Viktor’s demands.

Now he just wanted to know why!

Taking both of Yuuri’s hands in his own, Viktor held them apart and gazed down at him with a blissful expression.  “Before I answer, let’s talk about this confidence thing.”  Most of the blankets were wrapped around his lower body, exposing Yuuri’s naked chest.  He was sweating after their brief tussle, the fine muscles of his torso and arms standing out as Viktor pressed Yuuri’s hands to the mattress.

“Confidence is nothing,” Viktor told him, staring deeply into Yuuri’s eyes.  “Anyone can have confidence, but you can’t rely on such a fragile thing.”

“Easy for you to say,” Yuuri muttered, turning his chin away so he didn’t have to return Viktor’s vivid scrutiny.  “I bet you’ve never been scared in your life.”

“Hah, that’s true!”  Viktor shifted his hips, grinding down on Yuuri with a mischievous smile.  “What does confidence have to do with being scared, I wonder.” 

He paused, waiting to see if Yuuri had an answer for him, shrugging when he was met only with angry silence.

 

“Now a bout why you are scared to win,” Viktor continued patiently, flicking his fingernail against Yuuri’s right nipple.  Yuuri flinched and Viktor glanced back at his face with a faint smile.  “You have the skills to win, but you’re scared to do it. Lack of confidence is just an excuse.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Yuuri shot back, forgetting that arguing with Viktor was pointless…and dangerous. “I hate to lose, I haven’t spent my life skating because I’m scared of winning!”

Viktor pinched hi m , sending a desperate little thrill of pain from Yuuri’s chest to the pit of his belly.  “If that were true, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” Sliding up his body, Viktor used his fingers to stretch Yuuri’s lips into a manic smile.

“If that were true, you wouldn’t have come to me!”

Yuuri gaped at him, the glittering madness in Viktor’s eyes did nothing to detract from his handsome , refined features.  _How many people fell for him like this_ , he wondered, a chill creeping up his spine.  _That girl from the basement, is this the last thing she saw before she died?_  

He twitched when Viktor planted a quick kiss on his forehead, bouncing off the bed with an abundance of energy that Yuuri couldn’t help but envy. His hands were quickly grabbed, Viktor pulling him into a sitting position on the side of the bed with both legs dangling towards the floor.  The room wobbled dangerously for a moment, Yuuri’s head spinning at the sudden movements.

“Ah, look at you,” Viktor murmured, stroking his Yuuri’s hair back for his forehead.  “No wonder your mood is bad, you’re still sick.”  Patting him on the knee, Viktor reached for the glass of ice water and took a long drink.

Yuuri stared at him, suddenly extremely aware of how very parched he was, how dry the back of his throat.  He swallowed hard, unable to take his eyes from Viktor as he sipped from the glass that was dripping with condensation.

Draining the glass, Viktor sighed happily.  “That was good,” he announced, beaming at the disappointed Yuuri as he clinked the ice cubes.  He made a show of noticing that Yuuri’s eyes followed every movement of the glass. 

“Oh, how rude of me, Yuuri.  Did you want some too?”  Viktor dug his fingers in the glass, fishing out a large cube of ice.  “Here,” he offered to Yuuri on his palm like it were a precious jewel.  “This one is yours.”

Too thirsty to care , Yuuri moved to take it only to have Viktor pull his hand just out of reach.  “No, no…not like that,” Viktor said with a sly grin as he held his palm just under Yuuri’s chin.  “Use your lips and tongue only.  No hands or teeth, please.”

Fed up and desperate, Yuuri was already on the verge of tears.  “What, why?” Viktor raised an eyebrow , but didn’t move his hand and dejected, Yuuri decided to give in and play his game.

He dipped his tongue to the slippery cube that was melting quickly from Viktor’s warmth.  It would have been easier to bite it, but that was against the rules and he was so thirsty now he didn’t care if he embarrassed himself.  Ducking his head, he tried to suck the ice between his lips only to have it slide maddeningly away.  He chased it with his tongue, licking and slurping what moisture he could steal from Viktor’s palm. It was only a few drops, barely enough to wet his lips, let alone relieve his thirst.

A snicker over his head made him look up.  Viktor’s eyes were wide and his face was bright pink, flushed with delight as he watched Yuuri’s feeble attempts to capture the ice.  Too late, Yuuri realized that he’d been tricked, that Viktor’s little game had an erotic purpose and he was putting on lewd show for him.

Yuuri leaned back and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, shaking a little.   “I don’t want it,” he muttered, dropping his chin and staring at the floor.  “You can just go…”

He choked as the ice was messily crammed into his mouth, Viktor knocking him backwards and wrestling him down on the bed.  Trying to shove him away, Yuuri shouted incoherently as Viktor’s hot tongue forced its way into his mouth.  Their teeth clashed and Yuuri couldn’t breathe from the pressure of melting ice being shoved down his throat.

Punching Viktor’s shoulders and snorting angrily through his nose, Yuuri had no other way to resist as that tongue ravished the inside of his mouth.  The hard ice hurt his throat, his teeth ached from the cold, humiliation drenching him like the liquid that dripped from his mouth and ran down his neck. Viktor’s tongue poked and prodded his own, daring him to put up a fight.

Just when he thought he was about to pass out again, Viktor snatched the ice from his mouth with that agile tongue.  Yuuri gulped for air, his pulse racing noisily in his ears as Viktor hovered above him, smiling with one side of his face comically swollen from the ice cube he was holding in his cheek. His lips were wet, flushed deeply after their rough kisses. 

Yuuri couldn’t look away, captivated by the erotic sheen on Viktor’s lips.  Taking advantage of Yuuri’s sudden compliance, Viktor leaned close again, brushing Yuuri’s mouth with a moist and childlike kiss.  Sweetly, he nibbled on the corners of Yuuri’s lips, slipping to the side to kiss his cheek, his chin, and lick the bottom of his throat with an ice-chilled tongue.

“Cold,” he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut.  He wasn’t even pretending to resist by now, his muscles relaxing under the constant touch of soft fingertips, warm palms. From moment to moment, he felt the hard edge of the ice press into his skin when Viktor kissed his chest, dragging the chill down his abdomen and playfully dropping the remains of the ice cube on Yuuri’s belly.

“You seem to like this kind of thing,” Viktor murmured, running his hand under the blanket to find Yuuri’s half-stiffened erection. “This is how you react to my kisses, but still push me away?”

Yuuri moaned deep in his throat, arching his back as Viktor slowly stroked him.  Just like before, he was dancing to Viktor’s music, letting his body be played by his fingers.  He couldn’t believe how hard he was getting, the hand wrapped around him was unbearably hot.  Embarrassed by his own greedy desires, Yuuri reached helplessly for Viktor, catching a handful of soft hair.

“No, I don’t want this,” he croaked, desperate and caught in Viktor’s bright gaze.  “Enough with the joke, you’re going too far…”

Viktor’s expression seemed to freeze a little, tightening his grip.  Turning his head, he brushed off Yuuri’s light hold on his hair.  “I’m disappointed,” he said, narrowing his eyes until Yuuri felt like he could be cut by glass shards.  “I didn’t know you were such a liar, Yuuri.”

“I’m not, I’m not,” Yuuri babbled, reaching again for Viktor and this time having his hand slapped away.  He knew how ridiculous he looked, protesting when his cock was full of blood and throbbing in Viktor’s grip. A nameless anxiety crept up his back, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but he knew…he just knew that there was no line he could draw that Viktor wouldn’t cross.

Diving to his belly, Viktor took the ice cube in his mouth again and smiled.  Yuuri’s breath caught in his throat as Viktor crushed the half-melted lump of ice with his teeth and swallowed. Without dropping his gaze from Yuuri’s face, Viktor squeezed him until tears sprang to Yuuri’s eyes.

Yuuri shrieked when Viktor’s ice-cold mouth clamped down on his erection, sucking hard and driving pleasure and pain through Yuuri’s body like a spike.  It hurt and he would have gone flaccid, but Viktor’s fingers were tightly clamped around the base of his penis so that the blood couldn’t escape.

What followed seemed to last forever, Yuuri writhing and trembling on the edge of release until it burned like hot coals in his belly.  His skin was raw from Viktor’s harsh fellatio, dragging his tongue up and down Yuuri’s most sensitive skin.  Not allowed to ejaculate, overstimulated and overwhelmed, his cock went all the way to the back of Viktor’s throat.  What had been icy was now blistering hot and even though he flailed and begged like a madman, Viktor refused to let him off.

He prayed that he would finish, but Viktor just kept right on…

At last, Viktor relented when he heard whimpering.  Yuuri was a sweat-soaked mess, almost deliriously begging to come, his hips held down from the thrusting his body desperately craved. Releasing his tight grip, he licked Yuuri’s shaft once from the base to the tip and Yuuri gasped, shuddered, and exploded into Viktor’s mouth.

“That’s more like it,” Viktor said, licking his lips while Yuuri watched, too exhausted to complain. Using his sleeve, he wiped the remaining spill from Yuuri’s skin, straightened the blankets and tenderly tucked them around his precious captive. 

“You can rest for now,” he said, smiling kindly as he stroked Yuuri’s sweaty hair. “I’ll bring you some food and you can have another shower before we go.”

“Go?” Yuuri asked blankly.  His mind was in chaos, his body numb and Viktor’s words didn’t make sense to him.  “I’m going?”

Leaning over, Viktor tweaked his nose and grinned.  “We’re going skating, Yuuri.  Just like I promised.”

 

**_/killing skating5_   
**


	6. killing skating6

**_killing skating6_ **

“Yuuri,” Viktor said as he opened the trunk of his car.  He peered inside, reaching down to prod the sullen lump of blankets.  “You aren’t sleeping, are you?”

Whisking away the blankets, he was greeted by the sight of an angry young man wearing dark-colored sweats.  Half-hidden by messy black hair, Yuuri’s clear eyes glared accusingly at Viktor above the tape that covered his mouth.  With a satisfied sigh, he pulled his bound and gagged captive from the car.

“Stop it, that hurts!” Yuuri managed to squirm out of Viktor’s grasp, defending his raw skin where the tape had just been unceremoniously ripped off. “I’ll do it myself!”

His arms ached from being tied behind his back and he shook his hands to get the blood moving.  The promise of skating again had given him a false idea of Viktor’s intentions.  He’d rested until Viktor decided that he’d recovered enough and meekly followed his coach to the back of the house.

Taken down another short hallway, Yuuri saw the outside sky for the first time in days.  The yard behind the house was neatly tended, surrounded by the same tall concrete wall he’d seen when he’d made the mistake of walking through the gate.  He swallowed hard, his nerves trembling at the chill freshness of the air and took a deep breath.

“This way, Yuuri.”  Wary but obedient, he’d followed Viktor to the door of a detached garage.  The ground was cold and slightly damp on his bare feet and he still wore nothing but the striped t-shirt and shorts that Viktor had given him on his first day out of the basement.  He shivered in the dimly lit garage as Viktor motioned for him to come closer.

“Put these on first,” Viktor told him, tossing him a crumpled bag.  Fearful that he’d again be given another women’s figure skating costume, he was relieved to find ordinary exercise clothing.  Quickly pulling the shirt over his head, he hesitated as the material felt familiar against his skin.

“Hey, these are my…”

“Yuuri, come over here.”

Moments later, he found himself stuffed into the trunk like a pile of dirty laundry, his hands bound behind him and tape over his mouth.  Yuuri was so angry that he forgot to be afraid for the first time in some days, instead seething with righteous indignation.  He struggled to stay on his back and hold his head up, bumping along in a wad of twisted blankets and barely able to breathe.

_Is this what I wanted?_ he wondered, his mind fuzzy as Viktor sped up only to slam on the brakes and take a corner _.  Is he just going to drive around until he changes his mind and goes back?  Maybe I shouldn’t have asked to skate with him?_

Asking anything of Viktor was dangerous, he’d already learned that. Navigating through the minefield of Viktor’s true intentions might be difficult, but trying to keep ahead of his ever-changing mood was damned near impossible.  Yuuri was good at being careful, but rather than walking on eggshells, living with Viktor was more like trying to wade through quicksand.  You never knew when you were going to be pulled into a pit of dark and painful consequences.

 

Daring to look around now that he was out of the car, Yuuri’s heart sank.  Rather than finding himself at an urban skating complex where there might be some hope of encountering other people, Viktor had driven them into the countryside.  The sky above was pale and bright, but a cold wind ruffled the back of Yuuri’s sweaty hair and made him shiver.  Their car was the only one in a rough gravel lot in front a rather dull and abandoned-looking building.

“Come, I want to you show a special place, Yuuri.”  Viktor was beaming at him, obviously excited as they approached the entrance doors which were secured by a thick chain and padlock. “When I was a boy I used to come here all time to practice!”

_Is he serious_ , Yuuri wondered, looking at the faded paint and neglected entrance as Viktor unlocked the chain and pulled the doors open.  _Viktor Nikiforov actually skates in a place like this?_  

Inside was cool darkness, a narrow corridor leading up to a closed box office, the somewhat faded carpeting and smoothly painted walls reminding him of an old-fashioned theater.  Viktor led him through a set of heavy double doors to the skating arena and Yuuri stopped short, his mouth softly opened in surprise.

A pale oval of ice, natural light falling from tall windows, the shadows between them like streaks of smoked glass.  Opposite of the long wall, a cozy seating area was decorated in opulent brass and red leather upholstery.  Unlit crystal chandeliers clinked eerily, swaying as if welcoming guests into their presence.

“Amazing, yes?” Viktor asked, draping his arm over Yuuri’s shoulders and leaning close.  “This was my favorite place when I started skating.”

Yuuri could easily imagine a younger Viktor practicing here, long hair flying behind him as he glided peacefully between the shadows.  Years ago, he’d wondered what kind of rink Viktor might use for practice, if he also liked to skate alone as he worked out his programs.  Now he was seeing it for himself and not only that, he was going to skate here…with Viktor.

“Isn’t anyone else here?” Yuuri forgot to be cautious with his words as they made their way towards the ice.  He caught a glimpse of a scowl from Viktor, but the expression vanished so quickly that Yuuri almost doubted what he’d seen.

“Not right now,” Viktor answered, taking Yuuri’s wrist and pulling him over to a set of low benches near the rink entrance.  “It’s a private facility, no one will be bothering us.”

Yuuri pretended not to notice the edge in Viktor’s voice.  _He’s angry…that was stupid._   He couldn’t afford to be obvious, he had to play along for now, but more and more he was beginning to doubt if he’d ever compete again despite what Viktor said about winning the Grand Prix Final.

“Ah, don’t look so sad,” Viktor said, suddenly cheerful again as he sat Yuuri down on the bench. “I thought you’d be happy if I brought you here.”  Leaning heavily against him, Viktor rested his hands on Yuuri’s shoulders.  “You are not happy after all I’m doing for you?”

“N…no, that’s not it,” he answered, ducking his head as he tried to form the right response.  “I’ve always wanted to skate with you, so I’m kind of nervous.”

Viktor’s eyes lit up, the anger from earlier evaporating from behind his smile.  “Is that so?” Viktor slid beside him, pressing against Yuuri until the other skater had to grab the sides of the bench to keep from being shoved off.  A warm palm slid under his shirt to caress his back and Yuuri let his face be gently turned upwards by Viktor’s fingers.

“I want to know everything about you, Yuuri,” Viktor told him in a silky voice.  “Like what kind of rink you skate at, what your hobbies are.” He caught his breath as Viktor’s lips touched his ear.  “Or if there’s someone you like, hmm?”

He lost his grip and slid off the bench with an ungraceful thump, his face steaming red with embarrassment.  Viktor’s laugh burst out, echoing against the vaulted ceiling with genuine mirth. “A sensitive topic?” he asked, grinning wickedly over Yuuri before dragging a pair of skate cases from an alcove between the benches. 

“Not really,” Yuuri mumbled, getting to his feet slowly.  Being made fun of by Viktor stung a bit, as if the man knew Yuuri’s inexperience with romance was a sore point.  He’d managed to avoid relationships that took his attention away from his skating career, that was all.  He wondered if it had been the same for Viktor, if he ever regretted the sacrifice of time and energy that went into being a professional athlete.

Kneeling down again, he examined the case.  “My skates!” He wasn’t sure what Viktor had planned since he’d left his gear behind at the hotel he’d checked into when he arrived in St. Petersburg. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Viktor drop another bag on the bench beside him. 

“You shouldn’t go back to that hotel,” Viktor said, his disdain obvious. “They had no security, Yuuri.  They would have let anyone take your things as long as they paid your bill.”

_I knew you had them_ , Yuuri thought sourly, picturing again how ridiculous he must have looked while sprinting around Viktor’s house in ragged shorts and a t-shirt a size too small.  Taking a deep breath, he shoved those thoughts to the side as he laced up his skates.

_Is he even taking this coaching thing seriously?_   As Viktor turned away, he reached down for a furtive search in his formerly abandoned bags.  No phone of course, wallet and passport both missing…pretty much what he’d expected.  _That’s right, he doesn’t trust me, does he?_  

Then he heard it, the familiar sound of polished blades against ice. Yuuri looked up to see Viktor was already moving across the rink…and just like that, he was mesmerized.  All other feelings faded into the background, the pain, the fear, and even his stoked anger at his kidnapping and abuse slipped from Yuuri’s mind.  He stood silently watching as Viktor floated effortlessly towards him, every movement as practiced and precise as he would skate it in front of hundreds of admiring onlookers.  That only Yuuri was here didn’t seem to matter to Viktor, who sped up to land a perfect jump right in front of his captivated audience.

“A quad flip,” he whispered, admiring the perfect timing and form.

“What are you waiting for, Yuuri?” Viktor called to him as he gracefully spun away, heading to the center of the rink as if he expected a spotlight to follow his every move.  “Didn’t you want to skate together?”

Oh god, yes…yes, he did! 

As soon as his blades touched the ice, Yuuri experienced a singular joy that he’d never quite been able to put into words.  It was as if a warm current was singing in his blood, the familiar sound and feel of speed under his feet relaxed all the tension held deep within his body.  It was the ecstatic thrill of muscles that remembered their training, a lost confidence and drive that left him breathless with excitement.

A wide smile crossed his face, his first real happiness in days.  Relaxing fully into his movements, he circled the rink twice, even forgetting that Viktor was watching him closely.  Back when he was still working towards a serious career as a skater, he’d spent more time at Ice Castle or Minako’s ballet studio than he spent at home. Those solitary hours of practice had always calmed his mind, helped him focus, and even after training in Detroit for five years, he still missed his home rink.

Now here he was on Viktor’s ice at last, but hardly the way he’d imagined.  As he slowed to make a turn and head back to the other side of the rink, hands came from behind to rest on his hips.  Startled, he jerked around to find himself in Viktor’s embrace, the other man holding him lightly and letting him find his balance.

“Such long time since I’ve skated with anyone,” Viktor told him with a peaceful smile that left Yuuri unwilling to protest.  “This is more fun than I remembered.”

“Uh…”  He let Viktor guide him around the rink, skating like two grade schoolers on their first date rather than serious athletes who devoted their lives to the sport.  Yuuri found himself grinning stupidly at each awkward turn, trying to time their movements until both of them were a little frustrated and embarrassed. 

“So, Yuuri,” Viktor said as they glided to a stop. “Why don’t you show me what you can do?”

The warm feeling that had slowly developed inside him started to chill.  “You want me to skate for you?”

Leaving Yuuri standing in the middle of the rink, Viktor skated slowly towards the entrance and leaned against the wall.  “As your coach, I need to evaluate your skills.  For now, just keep it simple. I won’t ask you to try anything you can’t already do.”

_Come on, I’m not some kid_ , Yuuri thought, stung by Viktor’s dismissive tone.  _I did make it to the Grand Prix Final last year_.  He started to warm up, trying to shake off the jittery feeling of being under pressure.  _He said keep it simple, maybe just something from my short program? I probably shouldn’t try anything too_ …

“I saw the video of your performance at Nationals,” Viktor said over his shoulder as he slipped the guards on his skates and exited the rink.  “Don’t do that.”

The jittery feeling intensified and a hard knot of anger twisted his stomach.  _I hate this_. Viktor’s casual barbs easily found their way under his skin.  The last thing he wanted to think about was his embarrassing failure at Nationals. 

_I fell down so many times they thought I was injured_ , he thought, staring unhappily at his feet. _If I don’t show him I can do better, what’s he going to do to me?_

Skating away from Viktor to buy himself a little time to think, he noticed a music system set up at the edge of the rink.  “Viktor,” he called across the ice, “can I use this?”

“Go ahead.” Leaning against the low wall by the entrance, Viktor folded his arms impatiently as Yuuri stalled for time.  “There are some old discs in a box behind the speakers.  Use anything you like.”

_Anything I like, huh?_   Yuuri shuffled through the cases, looking for anything familiar.  One title stood out from the others and he felt his palms begin to sweat. 

_I’ve been practicing it since competition ended…_

“I’m getting bored, Yuuri.”

“Just hang on,” he muttered, carefully placing the disc in the machine.  _You think I’m not up to your standards, Viktor?  Maybe I’m not there yet, but I bet you won’t be able to look away!_

The nerves disappeared as he skated to the center of the rink, evaporating like cool mist in the sun.  His concentration left no room for stray thoughts or doubt, not this time. 

_I haven’t got anything else that will impress Viktor_ , he told himself, getting into place to wait for the music to begin.  He relaxed his stance, let his hands turn outward as he bowed his head.

_It has to be this!_

Viktor’s eyes grew wide as the music he couldn’t mistake filled the rink.  “Wait, that opening…”

_Just do it like you practiced_ , Yuuri told himself, forgetting about Viktor’s reaction and focusing solely on performance.  Better to live into the music like he was expressing with his body everything the vocalist expressed with his voice.  Here and there he knew he made an error… _a little too much rotation, a bit more control of the free leg_ …but his form never wavered.  Yuuri had fallen in love with this program the first time he’d watched Viktor skate it and been enthralled to the point he’d practiced it over and over.

This was it, that love of skating he’d felt when he was a child and being led around the rink by Yuuko.  He’d practiced Viktor’s routine after self-destructing during the Nationals, trying to recapture that feeling once more.  This program was challenging, designed to showcase Viktor’s talent as a choreographer as well as his technical skills as a skater.

It always left him breathless.

Yuuri raced towards the finish of the program, diving into his combination spin with a precision he’d rarely even managed in competition. It was a thrill to skate like this, with the kind of confidence and poise he’d always envied in Viktor. It felt good, really good.  Still breathing hard at the end, he lowered his arms and turned to face his audience. 

He didn’t know what kind of reaction he was expecting, or if he just wanted Viktor’s acknowledgement.  Hadn’t that been his dream, his goal for years?  At least before he found out his idol was something else under that mask displayed for posters and performances.

To his surprise Viktor’s face was unreadable, emotionless, his eyes like the ice under Yuuri’s feet.  Without a word, he slapped Yuuri’s skate guards on the side wall of the rink before stalking away to the changing room located near the entrance of the building.

_He’s mad?_ Yuuri was dumbfounded, his delight draining away into confusion. _Is he mad because I skated his program? Did I make a huge mistake and not realize it?_   The negative thoughts streamed into his mind, barreling along and growing louder like a freight train of condemnation.

No, there was no way he messed up, it had to be something else. Tears stung his eyes and a sharp ache of disappointment filled this throat.  Wiping his sweaty face on his sleeve, he skated over to the rink exit in silence, bewildered by the feeling of failure once again.

_Why? Why did he leave like that?_

“I should be more worried about what happens now,” he muttered, dropping down on a bench next to the rink.  A chill swept across his neck and he shivered, almost wanting to curl into a ball and give up. He unlaced his skates and removed them before putting his head in his hands.

_What was I expecting, him to praise me or be excited?  Did I think he was suddenly going to tell me that I had passed the test, that I could go home? I knew he didn’t really give a damn about my skating._

Something clinked under his toes as he sat back and Yuuri glanced down at his feet.   There was a set of keys on the floor right where Viktor had been standing.  For a long moment, it meant nothing to him, just some lost keys left behind by someone who…

_Viktor’s keys!_

Picking them up with trembling fingers, Yuuri stared at the entrance to the rink and then the doorway where Viktor had disappeared.  He was truly never this lucky. This was what he’d been waiting for, the million to one chance that Viktor would be careless and he wouldn’t have chains on his legs or be locked in that dark, stuffy basement!

Gripping the keys tightly in his fist, he cautiously got to his feet, adrenaline left over from skating still singing in his veins.  Yuuri held his breath, moving as quietly as he could, his steps soundless against the soft carpeting.

  _I want to know everything about you, Yuuri_.

The words were whispered in his ear as if by a ghost.  He stopped, biting his lip and taking more deep breaths to calm himself.  Just a few more feet and he’d be outside, he’d take Viktor’s car and drive until he found someone.  He’d drive all the way back to St Petersburg if he had to, anywhere he could get to a phone.  He could escape Viktor.

_You will win the gold medal at the Grand Prix Final this time with me standing by your side as your coach!_

“I didn’t ask for his help,” Yuuri whispered, his fingers tightening painfully around the keys. “I didn’t ask for any of it, I just wanted to be closer to him.  I didn’t want this…”

He rested his forehead against the wall, closing his eyes. “Damn him.” His mind was torn up, he couldn’t think straight and his emotions were a boiling-over kettle, too hot to contain, too violent to ignore.  If he ran now, he’d never know why Viktor walked away from him. 

_I have to know!_

Yuuri headed for the changing room, cursing himself for being this stubborn.   His knees were shaking, but nothing could have stopped him now.  Once he’d turned away from escape, his thoughts became consumed with Viktor.  After all this, didn’t he deserve something, some kind of explanation?  Everything he’d been too scared to ask was bubbling inside his head, the noise of his obsession drowning out what was left of his rational thoughts.

“Um…Viktor?” Even to his own ears, his voice sounded timid and weak, echoing softly into the silence.  At some time in the past, ice skates had been stored above shallow shelves where patrons left their shoes. On the opposite wall were hooks and small lockers for personal possessions, wide benches in the middle of the room. Although this rink was tiny, even smaller than Ice Castle, he could tell by the burnished brass and soft leather-covered seating it must have once been both thriving and exclusive.

“When I was six, my mother used to bring me here for skating lessons,” Viktor said, startling Yuuri from where he sat at the far end of the room.  “This place was already losing business to more modern facilities in the city, but she liked its charm just the same.  I couldn’t have cared less about the building, as long as there was ice.  Was it like that for you?”

“I…” With so many thoughts running loose in his head, Yuuri found it hard to answer.  “The rink in my hometown would let me practice whenever I wanted,” he said at last.  “I couldn’t stay away.”

A fleeting smile crossed Viktor’s lips, but his eyes remained distant, lost in his own thoughts.  “Back then all that mattered to me was skating, just because I loved it.”  Holding his hand up as if waving to an imaginary crowd, Viktor’s expression was wistful.  “It all becomes about winning, about sponsors and competition.  How sad that is, Yuuri.”

Even if he wasn’t a multiple gold medalist, or considered to be a living god of figure skating, he understood exactly what Viktor meant.  “I was starting to forget why I started skating,” Yuuri admitted, slowly crossing the room to sit beside Viktor.  “That was why I skated to your program, why I learned it after last season. I didn’t want to lose my love of skating.”

“You didn’t lose it,” Viktor said, reaching for Yuuri’s hand as he spoke. “I felt your love out there. I saw it in the way you moved your body.  It was beautiful.”

His face grew hot at Viktor’s words.  “I was scared that you hated it,” he confessed, a bit embarrassed as Viktor intertwined their fingers.  “I thought you were disappointed.”

“Not at all.”  He took both Yuuri’s hands and squeezed them.  “You surprised me again,” Viktor said, meeting his eyes seriously.  “Even when I think I know what you’re going to do, there’s always something new.  That song is special to me, and to see you express it so well…

Viktor shrugged, then pulled Yuuri closer until their foreheads touched.  “If you can seduce me like that,” he whispered teasingly, “then you will have no trouble winning the Grand Prix Final.”

Maybe it was the stress of being held prisoner, but for a moment Yuuri forgot everything that had happened between them.  Hearing that kind of praise from Viktor sent him into a spin so intense that being so close to him became unbearable.  Without thinking, he moved his hands to Viktor’s shoulders and pressed their lips together in a soft kiss.

It was the first time Yuuri had ever initiated a kiss with anyone.  Instead of the harsh and wild kisses Viktor had attacked him with before, this felt easy and natural.  Lips parting under Yuuri’s, Viktor only returned the gentle kiss and made no attempt to take control.  Their tongues touched and Yuuri shivered, pressing himself even closer.  The keys were forgotten and fell to the floor with a soft clatter. 

As he buried himself in Viktor’s arms, Yuuri abandoned reality. A hand on the back of his head carefully stroked his hair, soothing him. A little bolder now, he tightened his arms around Viktor and pressed his cheek to the other man’s shoulder.  This had to be a dream. He’d wake soon, safe in his own bed back in Hasetsu and all his fears would fade into nothingness.

“Just like this,” Viktor murmured, letting Yuuri cling to him.  Eyes closed, Yuuri never saw the strangely intense smile that crossed Viktor’s lips. 

“Stay close to me forever, Yuuri.”

**_/killing skating6_ **


	7. killing skating7

**_killing skating7_ **

After that day, something changed between them. Viktor treasured him like a precious jewel to be kept safe and protected.  Almost doting, he showered Yuuri with affection and care, treating him to delicious, handmade meals that were designed to optimize his training.  No longer was he ordered to cook and clean, or shoved in the basement at the whim of Viktor’s temper.  His tattered rags disappeared and were replaced by new clothing that seemed made just for him.

Also, he insisted that the highest quality equipment would enable Yuuri to focus on his performance.  Top of the line skating gear and a customized training regimen were all things that a world-class athlete accepted as necessary.  Although he had no complaints about his previous coaches, but Yuuri was beginning to believe that Viktor Nikiforov took everything to extremes.

Everything.

It made him so nervous that he could barely sleep at night.  Instead he would lie awake, exhausted from practice and minor details running wild in his head.  Viktor kept the strangest schedule for training, dragging him out hours before dawn, changing their routine whenever inspiration moved him.  He said he was working on different ideas for Yuuri’s program, but hadn’t even let him hear a piece of music yet.

Instead he was instructed to focus on his technique, practicing basic components over and over under Viktor’s critical eye.  That and spending hours working on his flexibility and refining how to move his body.  He was eternally grateful to Minako for the years of instruction he’d spent in her studio.  Thanks to her teaching, he had the stamina to keep pushing himself until even Viktor was pleased with his progress.

“Your body is changing,” Viktor told him, running his hands over Yuuri in a way that made his student tremble and pant. Strong fingers stroked his back, massaging Yuuri from shoulders to hips while Viktor’s thumbs pressed the length of his spine. He had to bite his lip and hold his breath when Viktor’s hands moved to his upper thighs, stroking firmly and sensually as if he were savoring the flesh under his fingertips.

Yuuri could only try to hide his embarrassment by burying his face in the pillow. Viktor insisted on performing after-practice rubdowns to relax Yuuri’s muscles, but it seemed to have the opposite effect. Hardly the first time he’d had sports massage, it was definitely the first time he’d had to hide this kind of reaction.  It was endlessly frustrating because he was sure that Viktor knew exactly what he was doing.

“Do you want to roll over now?” Viktor asked him, hands tightening in a playful squeeze to Yuuri’s backside.

“Uh…no, can we just leave off here for today?” Yuuri asked, his voice muffled by the pillow and his ears turning red. “I’m ready to just go to sleep.” _And I’m going to explode if you don’t stop touching me like that!_

Chuckling softly, Viktor finished wiping Yuuri’s damp skin with a cloth before covering him with a fresh sheet.  “Sleep then,” he said, clearly enjoying Yuuri’s helpless response to his touch. “I’ll check on you later.”

Yuuri sighed in relief when the lights went out and the door quietly closed.  This was getting to be too much for him to take.  Rolling on his side, he made an effort to ignore his stiffening erection.  No way was he going to get caught jerking off.  Bad enough that he couldn’t control himself, but every day he felt like he was falling deeper under Viktor’s spell.

“What do you want me to be for you?” Viktor had asked him that night after they’d returned home from the rink.  “You want a father figure? A brother, a friend maybe?”

Struck silent by the question, Yuuri couldn’t imagine Viktor as anything like that _.  Father figure or brother…that’s insane!  And you’re sure no friend to anyone_. “No,” he managed, wondering where this was coming from, what he’d gotten himself into with that moment of weakness, that kiss…

“So, your lover then?” Viktor tossed the question at him with a sideways glance, smiling at Yuuri’s shocked expression. He leaned close, touching Yuuri’s lower lip with a teasing finger and whispered in his ear, “I’ll try my best.”

Yuuri pulled the sheet over his head.  Since that moment, he’d been in a state of anticipation and panic, waiting for Viktor’s ‘best’ or whatever he had planned. It was enough to keep him up at night in more ways than one.  As restless as his thoughts were, he couldn’t fight the exhaustion of his body for very long and Yuuri slipped away into sleep.

It seemed like hours later when he slowly opened his eyes. Although he’d slept, he didn’t feel rested and his limbs were heavy and sluggish.  A soft snore in his ear brought him fully awake and Yuuri rolled over to see Viktor sleeping soundly beside him.

_How did we end up like this?_   Yuuri kept very still, carefully watching Viktor’s unguarded expression, the way his lips were slightly parted in sleep like a child’s. There was an innocence in his sleeping face, a tenderness that Yuuri imagined had been seen by very few.  It made him feel unsettled too, yet another side of Viktor emerging like silver moonlight from behind darkest shadow.

Moving a little closer, he couldn’t stop staring. Soft hair fell over pale skin, partially hiding the handsome features he’d admired for so many years as Viktor danced on the shining ice like the prince of a fairytale.  Yuuri raised his hand to brush the hair away, but stopped, hesitating. 

_Maybe_ , he told himself, _maybe we’ll_ … Swallowing hard against the dryness in his throat, Yuuri was more daring than he could have believed. His hand crept forward again, slipping across the pillow like a thief, fingers hovering over Viktor’s cheek.

“Going for me while I’m sleeping?” Viktor was awake, gazing up at him with a half-smile pulling at his lips.

He jerked his hand back as if bitten.  “Th-that’s not it…”

“Yeah, right.” Raising himself up on his elbow, Viktor wasn’t angry at all.  “You’re just shy, so old fashioned!”

Embarrassed, he tried to hide his hand behind his back, but Viktor made a quick grab and took his wrist.  Cupping Yuuri’s palm to his cheek, Viktor’s voice grew very gentle.  “I don’t mind if you want touch me.  You can do it.”

Sensing Yuuri’s reluctance, Viktor sighed and shook his head. “If you won’t do it, I will,” he said, pulling Yuuri’s hand down his chest until he could guide the unwilling fingers under his shirt. Touching the warm, smooth skin and feeling the rise and fall of Viktor’s breathing, Yuuri was at a loss for words. 

_Can I really…should I be doing this?_ Any resistance drained from his body when Viktor slipped his hand around the back of Yuuri’s head and coaxed him into a kiss.  He found himself responding as Viktor’s tongue prodded his own, filling his mouth with sweet insistence.  Trying not to be overwhelmed, he broke the kiss and turned his face away with a gasp.  Viktor caressed his hair, encouraging him when Yuuri’s hands started to wander towards his hips.

“That’s right, you’re doing so well,” Viktor murmured as he gently guided Yuuri’s lips to his abdomen.  With his shirt pulled up, messy hair and greedy eyes, Viktor was tempting him to go further, abandon his fear and dive headfirst into desire.  Clumsily leaving kiss marks down that pale body, Yuuri was feeling more nervous and out of his depth than ever.

He rubbed his palm across the front of Viktor’s trousers, feeling a warm length stirring under his touch.  Unable to stop himself, he cupped the growing erection between his finger and thumb, stroking it while listening to Viktor’s breathing quicken with excitement.

“Hey,” Viktor said in a soft, intense voice. “Want to suck it?” Without waiting for an answer, he slid his cock into Yuuri’s hands.  Yuuri licked his lips, staring at the smooth, hard flesh that was so rosy and eager.  Deep inside him, the flame of a secret desire was lit…the desire to have Viktor writhing in pleasure, begging him for it.

Up until now he’d taken whatever abuse or pleasure Viktor chose to give out.  It was obvious how he enjoyed pushing Yuuri past his limit, showing him how much control he had over his physical response. He could run Yuuri through stages of despair and lust as just easily as he could seduce him from the ice.

If he could make Viktor pant and plead helplessly, how good would that feel?

Only…he’d never done this before. Viktor had done it to him, and it had been more terrifying than pleasurable. His mind went blank, suspended between carnal desires and inexperience.  Closing his eyes, he kissed the head of Viktor’s cock before awkwardly slurping it between his lips. The hard shaft filled his mouth, touching the back of his throat and Yuuri gagged.  He immediately tried to pull back, but Viktor held him in place, almost wrenching the hair from his scalp when Yuuri tried to fight.

“Look, Yuuri,” he said, holding the struggling young man’s face tightly against his pelvis.  “You need to use your tongue.  I’m not going to feel anything unless you make an effort.”

Bracing himself, Yuuri shoved against the swelling cock with his tongue, trying to push it back. Viktor just grasped the sides of his head, muttering as he forced himself into Yuuri’s throat.  Breathing hard from his nose, he felt tears springing his eyes as his mouth was pumped violently.  He dug his fingernails into Viktor’s hips, angry enough to draw blood until he heard Viktor groan and was suddenly shoved away.

Warm fluid splattered his face, dripping down to sting his eyes, sticky bitterness on the back of his tongue.  Viktor was breathing hard, leaning away from him with a slightly surprised smile as he watched Yuuri try to wipe his mouth with the back of his shaking hands.

“Hah…sorry, I didn’t mean to come on your face.” Viktor stood up and stretched lazily, pulling his clothes together before turning to look down at Yuuri, still naked and hunched over on the bed.  “You did good,” Viktor told him, praising him like he’d praise Makkachin for learning a new trick.  “Thanks!”

_Thanks? That’s all you can say?_ His mind was full of dark clouds, disgust and rage boiling in his stomach until he knew he was about to be sick.

“Yuuri?”  Viktor seemed puzzled by his silence.  “Did I say something to make you angry?”

Dragging himself off the bed, Yuuri shoved past Viktor without another word, stomped to the bathroom and slammed the door.  He crouched over the toilet, trying to be sick but all he could manage was useless, painful heaving.  When finished, he stepped into the shower without waiting for the water to get warm.

“Why did I…damn it,” he muttered, letting the flowing water cool his head and drain away the feelings of hurt humiliation. 

They were not lovers.  Not even close.

He turned off the water and reached for the towel.  As Yuuri sat on the chilly edge of the tub, he rubbed his hair and tried to regroup his emotions.  He couldn’t let himself get caught up in this fantasy, he had to remember that his life was on the line.  Being Viktor’s student or being Viktor’s lover was not what he wanted, not what he needed.

Escape, that was the only thing he wanted.  He’d be able to see his family again and hold onto whatever pride he still had left, that was what he wanted.  Even if his career as a figure skater was over forever, he just wanted to get away from Viktor Nikiforov before his heart was torn apart. 

When he returned to the bedroom, Viktor was nowhere in sight.  Yuuri listened hard to the door of the basement, but didn’t hear any movement.  Hoping that Viktor planned to leave him alone for the rest of the day, he pulled on clean clothes and stared at his bed.  He was more tired now that he’d been before sleeping, before waking up with Viktor at his side.

“I can’t sleep here,” he decided grimly, grabbing up his blanket.  Yuuri yawned as he headed to the sofa in the living room.  Almost as soon as he sat down, there was a furry head nudging at his hand.  In spite of his dismal mood and general feeling of uselessness, he cheered at little at Makkachin’s request.  The friendly dog loved nothing more than napping on the sofa, preferably with a little human company.

Yuuri pulled his legs up to make room.  “All right, you can sleep here too,” he said, curling up on his side as Makkachin settled around his feet.  It gave him a cozy feeling, dissipating the helpless anger that was like a hard rock in his belly. With Makkachin’s warmth against the back of his thighs, his troubled emotions started to calm.

Just as he was about to doze off completely, he heard Viktor raise his voice.  Angry sounding words, some in Russian and some in English, echoed from upstairs.  Yuuri immediately froze, keeping his eyes tightly shut as Viktor’s footsteps fell on the steps that led down from the second floor.

“I told you, I don’t want to go out today,” Viktor said, ignoring Yuuri as he headed to kitchen.  Yuuri realized that Viktor must be speaking to someone on his cell phone.  “This is a bad time for me, Yakov.”

_Yakov Feltsman?_ Yuuri’s listened carefully, holding his breath.  Viktor’s coach, or former coach since Viktor seemed to have abandoned his own career to keep Yuuri prisoner. Was it possible that Yakov was demanding that Viktor go somewhere? And if he did, would Yuuri be chained up in the basement?

Viktor paced back and forth, speaking rapidly in Russian until he stopped with a frustrated groan.  “Okay, you win,” he said, “I’ll be late because of the rain, but I will be there.”

Still feigning sleep, Yuuri made no move as Viktor came lean over him. “Yuuri,” he said, gently shaking his shoulder.  “You sleeping?”

Breathing steadily, he kept his body limp.  Viktor’s fingers ruffled his hair, reaching down to rub his back.  Yuuri waited until the hand lifted and Viktor’s presence over him finally withdrew.  He waited a moment, unable to sense anyone near and cautiously opened his eyes.

“What the hell,” Viktor laughed, kneeling beside the sofa and watching Yuuri’s face.  “You were faking it?”

Fear rushed in like a cold wind through his body, Yuuri jumped and stared wide-eyed at Viktor.  _Crap, did I mess up_ , he started to panic.  Instead of being angry, Viktor gave him a sweet smile and patted his head.

“No, go back to sleep.  I shouldn’t have said anything.” Viktor stroked Yuuri’s face with the back of his fingers, trying to lull him with affection.  “I have to go out for a bit, so I was wondering if you could go back to the basement.  I’ll be right back…”

Yuuri squeezed his eyes shut.  _I can’t, I can’t go back to the basement! Not now, not this time_ …

Sighing, Viktor patted his shoulder.  “I get it, you’re still upset with me, right?”  Yuuri refused to answer, turning his face slightly away so he wouldn’t have to look at Viktor. 

_Just please leave!_

Viktor leaned his head against the arm of the sofa, studying Yuuri’s face.  “All right,” he said softly, “how about you stay up here?  The basement’s probably too damp, so just wait for me and take care of Makkachin.”

He leaned in close, brushing Yuuri’s cheek with a chaste kiss.  “Be a good boy, Yuuri,” he whispered, “and remember, don’t cross the line.”

Eyes half closed, he watched Viktor leave, pausing to slip a coat over his shoulders as he opened the door. The smell of fresh rain wafted in, a soothing sound as it struck the wet pavement.

_How long will he be gone?_

Yuuri sat up, untangling his legs from the blanket.  At the other end of the sofa, Makkachin was watching him soberly, a low whine in his throat when Yuuri crept to the end of the hallway.  He’d wait just long enough to make sure that Viktor was gone, then he’d have to make a run for it.

He was lucky that Viktor forgot about the chains.  More and more he was leaving them off, counting on his presence in the house as enough to keep Yuuri from escaping.  Every other minute of the day they were together.  Eating, practicing, bathing, going to the rink together…but at night Viktor usually left him alone to sleep as long as the cuffs around his ankles were bolted to the end of bed.

_Why today?_ Yuuri stopped and leaned against the wall, still staring at the door.  Why had Viktor left the chains off, was it because he’d planned on sleeping next to Yuuri in bed?  Did he just forget or was he that sure that Yuuri was completely under his control?

Shaking off his doubts, Yuuri ran for the bedroom and started tearing into the storage closet.  “I’ll wait about fifteen minutes, make sure he isn’t coming back for some reason.”  In that time, he could do a quick search for his belongings.  He might find a pair of shoes, he even dreamed he might find his phone or passport stashed somewhere around here. 

Precious seconds ticked by as Yuuri dashed around Viktor’s house like a madman.  Yanking open drawers, pawing desperately through the contents, he could only think that he was wasting time.  No, he was stalling, working up the courage to run out the front door.

Anything he could use was probably in the basement.  Yuuri shuddered, pacing back to the living room.  If it was in the basement, he didn’t want it.  Frustrated, he opened another closet near the entry way and started searching through Viktor’s expensive looking overcoats.  A flash of bright red drew his eye and without thinking, he pulled out Viktor’s warm-up jacket.

_You want to get a photo?  Sure thing!_

He dropped the jacket like it was on fire.  “No,” he breathed, aching from the inside out.  “That wasn’t the real you, Viktor.  Just another lie.”

Brooding, he slid down the wall and put his head in his hands. He just had to walk out that door, that was all. He didn’t need his things, he’d run barefoot until his feet bled.

_Blood ran across the floor, Yuuri’s blood.  A river of gore streaked the hallway, crimson handprints and bits of flesh, all running from the living room to the bedroom, to the closet, on the basement stairs_ …

“Stop it!”  Yuuri’s scream echoed in the quiet house, his eyes wide with the image of his gruesome death.  He could feel the knife slice into his throat, cold and absolute, his skin peeling back as muscle and tissue were exposed.

_“Didn’t I warn you, Yuuri?”_ Viktor asked, with his photogenic smile that blinded everyone to his darkness.  _“I told you not to cross the line.”_

He didn’t know how long he sat like that, bunched against the wall and trembling. Fear had paralyzed him completely, far worse than any pre-competition anxiety attack ever could.  It wasn’t until a wet nose nudged his arm that he was able snap back to reality.

“How much time has passed?” he whispered, staring at the wall like a clock was going to suddenly appear.  Makkachin whined softly, pawing at Yuuri’s leg.  _Hurry up_ , he seemed to be telling Yuuri.

_You don’t have much time left!_

Forcing himself to stand, Yuuri gathered his strength and went to the door.  This was it, he was leaving…

He opened the door just a crack.  Fresh air wafted towards him, smelling of rain, of wet pavement.  Encouraged, he peeked outside, looking up the street past the gate.  Utterly quiet, gray skies from the rain were turning lighter, a faded blue rising high overhead.  Relieved, he stepped outside and took a deep breath of his longed-for freedom.

**“** _Sento una voce che piange lontano…”_

He froze as a slightly off-key tenor behind him started to sing.

_“Anche tu sei stato forse abbandonato…”_

Viktor was standing to the side of the door, arms folded and eyes closed.  Yuuri’s stomach turned to ice and he staggered backwards a step, bumping into the door frame as Viktor blocked his path to the gate.

Holding out his hand, Viktor gave him a ravishing smile.  “ _Orsù finisca presto questo calice di vino…_ _Inizio a prepararmi…”_ Surprisingly pleasant, but without the depth of a trained vocalist, Viktor’s voice pierced Yuuri like the sharpest blade, the finest steel.

“Please,” he whispered, holding up his hands as he backed away from Viktor.  “I wasn’t going to leave, it’s just a mistake.”

Stopping short of the doorway, Viktor threw his arms in the air.  “ _Adesso fa’ silenzio!”_ Yuuri cringed as Viktor shouted the lyrics at him, wild rage building in his eyes.

“Don’t,” he begged, tears slipping down his cheeks as he started to plead for his life.  “Don’t be like this Viktor, you’re scaring me…”

“ _Con una spada vorrei tagliare,”_ Viktor spat, giving Yuuri a hard shove towards the house. _“Quelle gole che cantano d'amore!”_ Dragging his finger across his throat, Viktor bared his teeth in a savage smile, letting his victim know exactly what was coming next.

It was more than he could take.  Yuuri turned and ran into the house, his screams cut off from the quiet St. Petersburg neighborhood as soon as Viktor slammed the door.

**I hear a voice crying in the distance _  
_ Perhaps you've been abandoned as well _  
  
_ Come, finish quickly this goblet of wine**  
**I'm starting to get ready** __  
  
**Now be silent  
With a sword I wish I could cut**  
**Those throats that sing of love**

**-** _Stammi Vicino -_ Stay Close to Me

**_/killing skating7_ **


	8. killing skating8

_**killing skating8** _

Yuuri heard the door slam as he ran screaming down the hall.  Just the look in Viktor’s eyes had been enough to make his body tremble with dread.  He slipped when he hit the smooth tiles of the kitchen floor, slamming himself painfully against the wall.

“Yuuri,” Viktor called to him, his voice ringing joyfully through the house. “Why are you running away from me?”

_He’s gonna kill me!_  Looking around frantically, he could see nowhere to hide, nowhere that Viktor couldn’t reach him.  Blocked from the front door, Yuuri raced past the kitchen, down the narrow corridor that led the small yard at the back of the house.  He hit the door hard, so scared he could barely get his shaking fingers to work the latch. 

He burst outside, making a frantic run at the garden wall.  It was just little more than six feet tall and he was sure he could pull himself up.  Yuuri jumped for the edge, fingers grasping the hard concrete as he tried to climb over.  Sharp pain stung his hands and he yelped, only just managing to keep his feet under him when he fell from the wall. 

His fingers were covered in blood and he realized that the smooth concrete wall had glass shards embedded in the top surface.  Yuuri felt sick to his stomach, his lacerated fingers throbbing painfully.  

_I have to escape, I have to escape now…I want to go home!_  

“Where are you going, Yuuri?”

Viktor was at the doorway, one arm raised above his head to lean lazily against the frame.  Still smiling brightly, his eyes glittered with anger as he beckoned to the terrified Yuuri.  “Why don’t you come back in the house?  I think it’s going to start raining again.”  His smile hardened as Yuuri backed away from him, fearfully looking around for something, anything to use to defend himself.

“Stay…stay away from me!”  His voice trembled, sounding so shaken and scared like a lost little boy.  His stomach clenched and he held up his bloody hands.  “Just let me go, Viktor,” he pleaded.  “I already told you, I won’t tell anyone.  I’ll quit skating and disappear, I promise…”

“I LIKE YOU!” Viktor suddenly shouted, catching Yuuri off guard to the point where he almost tripped over his own feet.  Approaching him from across the yard, he was pinned in place by Viktor’s mad smile.  “BE MY COACH, VIKTOR! I LOVE YOU!”

Roughly taking Yuuri by his collar, Viktor yanked him close.  “Ha, that was some amazing acting,” he said, twisting Yuuri’s shirt in his fist.  “I almost fell for it, what a performance!”

“Th…that’s not true,” Yuuri gasped, wondering what the hell Viktor was talking about.  “Please, please forgive me, I just…”

“Stop it. How many times are you going to say please?”  Viktor gave him a violent shove and Yuuri fell to the wet ground.  “You’re always talking like this.  It’s becoming a bad habit.”

Crouching at Viktor’s feet, Yuuri’s hands clenched into muddy fists.  “I want to go home,” he said, tears sliding down his nose and his pulse hammering loudly in his ears.  Raising his eyes to meet Viktor’s, his whole face burned with determination.  “I’m going!”

“Hmm?” Viktor leaned over him, his smile faded into shadow.  “So, who’s stopping you?” With a careless shrug of his shoulders, he gestured at the back door of the house.  “Go and leave, if that’s what you really want.”

“Really?” He didn’t believe Viktor, not in the least.  Cautiously, Yuuri stood up and walked slowly towards the house. He kept his head down, focusing on each step.  _It’s a trick, I know he’s going to_ …

A blow to his lower back sent him sprawling.  Viktor fastidiously wiped his shoe on Yuuri’s shirt as he lifted his face from the mud.  “Crawl on your belly,” he told Yuuri in a reasonable voice that sounded completely at odds with his words.

He pulled himself up on his elbows, grinding his teeth and shaking.  “Somebody, help me…” he whispered, fear and anger warring inside him until he couldn’t even think straight. He’d probably die as soon as he entered the house…no, it wouldn’t be that easy.  Not even if he begged.

“Save me,” he whimpered into his hands, unable to move forward.

“What a hassle,” Viktor sighed, shaking his head in disappointment.  “What are you doing, Yuuri? Nobody can hear you like that.”

He took a deep breath, pushing himself up on his elbows. “Anyone, please!” he cried. “Save me!”

Grinning happily, Viktor knelt down next to him as if they were playing a game.  “That’s it,” he encouraged, pulling Yuuri to his knees and helping him sit.  “You need to be louder!”

“Save me!” Tears dripped down his nose, mixing with smears of mud, stinging in his eyes. “Save me!”

“Save him!” Viktor bellowed, cupping his hands around his mouth to amplify his shouts.  “That’s more like it,” he said, giving Yuuri’s shoulder a happy little shake. “Louder now!”

Desperate, he screamed for help until his voice became hoarse and he was panting weakly.  The rain that had lessened into a light drizzle started to pick up again, soaking them both.

“Are you done?” Viktor asked as Yuuri’s cries became soft and punctuated by ragged sobs. “Come on, stop crying.”  Pretending to be kind, he put an arm under Yuuri’s shoulder to help him stand. “Let’s go inside and dry off now.”

“No!” Yuuri twisted away, catching Viktor off guard with his panicked rejection. “Let me go! I’m going home!” Kicking with both feet and sliding backwards on the wet ground, he fended off Viktor’s hands as the other man tried to keep hold of him. “Get off me, motherfucker!

His fist landed hard on Viktor’s chin and that was all it took to change Viktor’s expression from mild to murderous.  Grabbing Yuuri by the back of his neck, he slammed him down again, landing two or three hard punches across Yuuri’s face before kicking him hard in the stomach.

Wheezing from the blow, Yuuri tried to curl into a protective huddle while Viktor vented his anger in vicious stomps to Yuuri’s back and shoulders. “Stop it,” he begged as Viktor’s heel grazed his ear.  “Please stop!”

Viktor swept his hair out of his eyes, breathing hard, and glared down at Yuuri.  “I’m completely soaked now,” he complained, rubbing his neck and squinting up at the sodden sky.  “I was really hoping you wouldn’t come out, Yuuri.”

Squatting down on his heels, he grasped a handful of Yuuri’s hair to lift his head from the muddy ground.  “But you did, now it has to be like this, eh?” Dizzy from the pain, Yuuri couldn’t focus on Viktor’s face, it was just a pale blur against darkness.  He’d been kicked in the head and could feel the bruises forming all over his body. 

It hurt so much that the only thing he wanted to do was shut his eyes and let go.  Let himself slide into the warm unconsciousness, forget about Viktor, forget about skating…he just didn’t have what it took to climb to the top. If he could go back in time, he’d find his younger self and tell him to never put on a pair of skates.  He’d just become no different from everyone else and he’d never have a reason to go to Russia or meet a crazed figure skater who kept his darkness locked in the basement like a pet monster.

Yuuri groaned as Viktor pulled him up, stooping to sling his limp body over his shoulder to drag Yuuri into the house.  His bare feet slipped on the wet ground, his knees turned to jelly and Yuuri found himself staring wistfully at the sky, wondering if it would be last time he’d see it.

_I tried to get away, it didn’t work_ … 

Viktor grunted and heaved Yuuri on the kitchen floor like a sack of wet sand, stepping over his unmoving figure to stomp down the hallway with quick steps. “Get up, Yuuri.”

When he didn’t move, Viktor swore under his breath and returned to seize Yuuri by the hair.  Dragged to his feet, he resisted as best he could by trying to wrench away from Viktor’s grasp.  They struggled fiercely for a minute, angry and silent other than the sound of their ragged breathing and sharp gasps of pain.  Finally, Viktor managed to wrap his arm around Yuuri’s neck and pulled him down the hallway.

As he was forced towards the bedroom, Yuuri’s panic ran ice water through his body.  “No, don’t!” he screamed, desperately trying to free himself.  “I don’t want to!”

“Come here,” Viktor said, gritting his teeth and squeezing until Yuuri was about to pass out from the pressure on his throat. “Why are you being like this?” he demanded, feeling Yuuri’s struggles start to subside. “Stop acting like such a baby!”

His legs shook as he was led down the stairs, eyes watering and his face turning red as he fought to get air into his lungs. Yuuri collapsed with relief when Viktor finally shoved him down on a pile of blankets carelessly dumped on the basement floor. He inhaled gratefully, only to start coughing when fresh air crossed his bruised windpipe.

“Those blankets are your bed now,” Viktor told him, pulling over a straight-backed wooden chair.  “Since you’ve gotten them all smelly with your sweat, I can’t use them anymore.”

Stripping off his damp overcoat, Viktor tossed it to the side as he rolled up his sleeves. “I didn’t think this would happen today,” he said as he opened a toolbox and started to sort through the contents.  “That’s why I don’t have anything special planned. Ah, here we are…”

Yuuri cringed away as Viktor knelt on one knee in front of him.  Both hands were behind his back, his eyes shining mischievously, like a boy with a secret. “Choose which side you want!”

Rubbing his aching throat, Yuuri shook his head, unwilling to play along this time. “I don’t want to.”

“Go on,” Viktor insisted, his smile sharp as a blade. Annoyed by Yuuri’s fearful silence, Viktor leaned closer, his tone dropping ominously. “It’s your choice what happens next, Yuuri.  Don’t make me choose for you.”

In this basement, Viktor’s cruel side came to the surface. The sensual Viktor who caressed him and sent his body into a frenzy was nowhere to be seen, just as the world-class athlete turned coach was also absent.  That left Yuuri utterly alone with a sadist who dealt in pain with manic glee.

“The…the right side,” Yuuri whispered, unable to look at Viktor’s smiling, hateful face. “I choose the right side.”

“Good choice, Yuuri!” Viktor produced a pair of handcuffs from behind his back, dangling them in front of Yuuri’s eyes.  “That is what I hoped you would choose, now we can have some real fun together.” With a wink, he showed off the long, sharp knife in his other hand, its bright surface glinting wickedly in the dim basement.

Yuuri wanted to be sick, nauseated by the twisting waves of terror in his gut.  “Please don’t do this,” he pleaded again, his voice rough and desperate.  “I’m so scared…”

“Hmm? Who cares about that?”  Viktor pulled him to his feet and steered Yuuri into the wooden chair. Humming pleasantly to himself, he cuffed Yuuri’s hands behind his back and between the slats of the chair.  Now he couldn’t get up, couldn’t do anything to defend himself, helpless and the mercy of a lunatic.

Just when he was about to start sobbing again, Viktor yanked Yuuri’s shirt up and pulled it over his head, effectively blindfolding his captive.

“Now where should I start?” he asked, fingers tracing Yuuri’s chest playfully.  “How about if we play a fun game now?  It’s a guessing game.”

“What?” Deprived of his vision, his own breathing was unnaturally loud, the rhythm of his racing pulse pounding in his ears. He could barely think, let alone guess the answers to questions.

Straddling the chair, Viktor sat on Yuuri’s legs and leaned close. “I ask a question, you answer. If your answer is correct, I will give you a treat.  If you’re wrong…” He placed both hands on Yuuri’s face, thumbs resting over his eyelids.  “Maybe I just take out your eyes.”

_Oh dear god!_   He started to hyperventilate, gasping and unable to quell the sheer terror raking his body.  “Viktor, I’m begging you!”

“First question,” Viktor said, ignoring Yuuri’s pitiful voice.  “Why did I take off your shirt?”

“I don’t…gah!”  Pain exploded in his right eye as the pressure suddenly increased.  Sweat slipped down his neck and Yuuri nearly wet himself.

“I don’t know is not an answer,” Viktor said flatly, slapping his palm against Yuuri’s cheek.  “Why did I take off your shirt?”

_He’s crazy, he’s out of his mind, how should I know_?  _Because he wanted to keep me from seeing him?  No, that’s stupid, he wants me to know what’s going on. Because I’ll be more scared if I can’t see?_

He couldn’t think of anything else, his mind was empty of everything but his fear.  He couldn’t win if the real game was to guess what Viktor wanted him say. The shirt over his head was damp from the rain outside, smelling of mud, of wet grass.  It was distracting and…

“Because it’s wet?”

“Very good!” Pleased, Viktor pulled the damp shirt over Yuuri’s head, letting it flop against his back and slide down his arms.  “That’s exactly right, you surprised me again.  Here’s your treat!”  Yuuri flinched as Viktor leaned in to land a soft kiss on his cheek. He ducked away when Viktor stood up, circling behind him to rest his hands on Yuuri’s clammy shoulders.

“Are you ready for round two?” Warm fingers slid under his jaw, gently lifting Yuuri’s chin until he was forced to stare up at the ceiling.  His neck bent backward, Yuuri was conscious of how exposed his throat was right now, unable to stop thinking about the knife Viktor had shown him.

“This question is more difficult,” Viktor said, his voice very low and without a hint of warmth.  “Tell me, Yuuri, how long does it take to bleed for a person to death?”

Yuuri’s lips trembled, but he couldn’t make himself speak.  His nightmares, everything he’d feared was coming true right now.

Stroking the underside of Yuuri’s jaw, his fingers slipped lower to rest above a quickening pulse. “It really depends on where you are cut,” Viktor said idly, ignoring the silent tears that were leaking from Yuuri’s eyes.  “If I make a deep cut right here, you might stay conscious for only a minute or two before your heart stops.”

_Nice and slow, I’ll slice into this soft place below your chin.  You won’t even be able to see it if you look in the mirror, but by then you’ll be bleeding to death_ …

“Viktor…” _Please, don’t do this!_

“On the other hand,” Viktor told him, moving again to kneel in front of his captive.  “A shallow cut might bleed for days.  Can you imagine what that would be like, Yuuri?  To die slowly, getting weaker, feeling your life drip away while you think about it?” He smiled suddenly, reaching out to pinch Yuuri’s pale face.  “I wouldn’t want to go like that!”

_I have to do something…I have to distract him, make him forget about hurting me!_ His hands were cuffed behind his back, he couldn’t even get up off the chair, let alone fight for his life. Viktor’s fingers traced his cheek affectionately, as if he really believed somewhere in his twisted heart that Yuuri welcomed his caresses.  Wasn’t that why he kept doing this, toying whimsically with Yuuri’s body and nerves until the only way out was…complete surrender?

_Is that what he really wants from me?_

Gingerly, he leaned into that waiting palm, rubbing his cheek against Viktor’s hand, a sweet, shy kitten requesting her owner’s attention. If he were a beautiful girl, Yuuri supposed it might be quite alluring, but he didn’t have that much confidence in his own appeal.  He’d begged for his life, groveled without a trace of dignity.  Now, even if he hated it, all he had left was seduction.

“I don’t like this game,” Yuuri whispered, his lips parted softly in a flirtatious smile _. Pretend you want him, adore him, make him believe you!_  Flicking his tongue between the other man’s fingers, Yuuri tried his best to appear bold, enticing as a siren. Still, he wasn’t able to hide his distressed fear and his voice trembled in the cold basement. 

“W…why don’t we do something else?”

Viktor’s finger slipped between his lips and Yuuri closed his eyes, hoping this would be enough of a distraction to spare his life.  Sucking gently, he nibbled and curled his tongue, feeling absolutely ill with fear and shame until the finger was removed from his mouth.

“Yuuri,” Viktor murmured, leaning forward to kiss him again, this time only a chaste meeting of lips to his forehead.  His hair was brushed away from his eyes and he relaxed under the soft touch. Viktor’s breath was warm in his ears, gently tickling. Yuuri’s lips pulled into a sweet lie of a smile, opening his eyes to gaze yearningly at his unpredictable coach.

“That’s not going to work this time.”

The blow came out of nowhere, a hard, open-handed slap to the side of his face.  Yuuri’s vision blurred, barely ducking away as Viktor suddenly kicked him and sent the chair crashing to the hard floor.  His shoulder took the brunt of the fall and Yuuri groaned as the broken chair dug into his back.

Standing over him, Viktor was perfectly calm, his smile curled into an expression of disgust.  “So wet,” he sneered, wiping his saliva-coated fingers on his sleeve.  “Am I a piece of candy for you to suck on? You’re not fooling anyone with your slutty acting, Yuuri.”

His arm was seized up, Viktor carelessly dragging him back to the pile of blankets.  “Fine, we’ll do something different as you said.”  Moving swiftly, he peeled away Yuuri’s sweatpants and underwear, rolling him onto his stomach as he pinned the younger man with a knee on his lower back.  Arms twisted painfully behind him, Yuuri ceased his useless struggling and went limp, panting and nearly blind with terror as his face was buried in the blankets.

Viktor ran his hand down the inside of Yuuri’s thighs.  “You have such pretty legs,” he remarked, ignoring Yuuri’s twitches of fear.  “Not too thin or too muscled, nicely smooth with ankles shapely as a girl’s. I thought I’d have to break them to make you stay with me, but I didn’t want to do it.”

He grasped the back of Yuuri’s head, grinding his face into the blankets as Yuuri became increasingly desperate for air.  The pressure on his body increased as Viktor seized one of the flailing legs and ruthlessly bent it until the sole of his foot touched his buttocks.  Yuuri shrieked with the last bit of air in his lungs, bright stars bursting under his eyelids from pain and hypoxia.  What strength he had left evaporated, his consciousness slipped away as the tide slipped from a sandy beach.

In the next moment or maybe a few moments, he came to with the sensation of a mouth covering his own.  Sweet air was forced between his lips and his body gratefully took in oxygen.  Disoriented, he lay flat on his back with both arms spread at his sides.  As he realized the cuffs were gone, he raised his shaking hands to cover his face and let the tremors subside.  Somehow, for no particular reason, he was still alive.

“How much longer are you going to stay there?”

Yuuri turned his head towards Viktor’s voice, his eyes slowly focusing.  A few feet away, Viktor was watching him closely with eyes that seemed to pull in the shadows of the basement.  He couldn’t move when Viktor extended his hand, the back of his finger touched briefly under Yuuri’s nose and then came away streaked with red.

“We should find a way to calm down,” he said, licking the blood from his finger with a thoughtful expression.  “Before I do something I’ll regret.”

“N…no more,” Yuuri husked, his voice all but shattered. “This is enough, right?”

Viktor looked down at the floor, tracing a crack in the cement with his thumb.  “How can you say that?” he asked, sounding bored by it all.  “I don’t think you really understand my feelings, Yuuri.”

A pained sound bubbled from his throat, somewhere between a laugh and despair.  “You’re going too far,” Yuuri begged, misery swimming in his eyes. “If there’s something you want, say it! How am I supposed to-”

“Shut up!” Viktor’s shout echoed in the small room, striking Yuuri’s fear like a whiplash against concrete. Towering over him, Viktor was nearly incandescent with fury, his words falling as shards of ice onto Yuuri’s bare skin.  “A disobedient idiot like you, full of shit and lies?  I want nothing from you!”

“Stop it now!” Yuuri shrieked when Viktor yanked him upright, crouching at his back.  Holding Yuuri’s head tightly, he poked the point of his knife into the skin under Yuuri’s jaw. A swift slicing motion, Yuuri barely felt the sting of the very sharp blade, but sticky warmth tricked down the sensitive skin of his throat.

“Aren’t you tired of feeling like it’s never enough?” Viktor asked, arms wrapped around the sobbing Yuuri as he rocked him back and forth. The shallow wound was hardly life-threatening, but the smell of blood was a curtain around them. The more Yuuri cried, the calmer Viktor became, even to the point of humming softly to comfort him.

“If you close your eyes, all your dreams will come true,” he promised, sweet insanity like music in his words.  Trailing fingers through Yuuri’s blood, he painted his lips with a crimson smile.  “Your dreams are now my dreams, Yuuri.  We’ll make it happen.”

“I will set your heart on fire.”

_**/killing skating8** _


	9. killing skating9

_**killing skating9** _

The single bulb hanging from the ceiling didn’t give off any warmth. Its light was enough to illuminate the steps, but never reached the shadowy corners the basement. If he stared too long, the after image of that feeble glow became a black sun when he closed his eyes. Sometimes he would wake from restless dreams and think the light was pulsing, running like sand across glass. An illusion made by tears he’d wept in his sleep.

Yuuri sat up in his pile of musty blankets to rub his eyes. He didn’t know what day it was, or how many days it had been. Chained by his ankle to a thick steel pipe and wearing nothing but a pair of underwear, it seemed the time he’d spent upstairs with Viktor was only a dream. After so many days, he was no longer sure that he’d ever left the basement.

“Why is this happening?” he asked himself again, rubbing the back of his neck and wondering when Viktor would return.  With no particular schedule or malice, Viktor brought him canned food and bottled tap water, but otherwise ignored his existence. When his kidnapper visited, Yuuri screamed and begged, alternating his pleas with promises to do whatever Viktor asked, whatever Viktor wanted. Even when Yuuri sobbed with frustration, he was ignored…just trash blown by the wind at Viktor’s feet.

Only once had he gone too far, waiting until Viktor turned his back and then scrambling across the floor like a rat desperate to escape a flooding sewer.  He threw his arms around Viktor’s leg, pleading for forgiveness.  _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again!_ Without a second of hesitation, Viktor slapped him hard enough to loosen his teeth.

“Don’t.”

After that, Yuuri was left for longer periods of time, waiting long and silent hours while thinking about what would happen if Viktor abandoned him to die.  It scared him to the point where he stopped eating and drinking as much, hoarding what he had in case he had to starve. 

_Stupid_ , _an extra can of tuna won’t do me much good. Nobody knows where I am, so if he doesn’t keep me alive, I’ll rot down here until there’s nothing left but bones._

To stave off hopelessness, he continued to train alone as best he could.  He stretched to keep his muscles moving, trying to remember every ballet exercise he’d been taught by Minako-san.  He focused on his dance training until sweat glistened on his back and he had to spend his hoarded water to wash his face.  It was keeping him sane as he pretended that there was going to be a way out, a chance he’d see the ice again.

_Please, I don’t want this to be the end!_  

The smell of his own sweat and dread, the damp mustiness of this basement, the cold weight of metal on his leg…that was his world right now.  He could endure discomfort, but it was much more difficult to cope with the loneliness of his confinement. Being beaten up and tortured wasn’t a better end, but the longer he was left down here, the more likely he would completely lose his mind.

He heard a door slam and his body tensed.  Yuuri looked up, unconsciously reaching to touch the bandages on his throat.  Such fine cuts, as if made by a chef handling expensive meat. He didn’t want to think about the scars, just as he couldn’t stop thinking about the smell of his own blood, the sticky trickle of it on his skin.  Although Viktor had meticulously cleaned the wounds, the bandages were now grimy, an itchy reminder not to touch the healing scabs.

Now there were footsteps echoing above him, sullen thuds and the sound of voices raised. Yuuri bit his lip, his hands instinctively clenched.

_Viktor never makes that much noise, is someone else here?_

He considered that it could be intruders in search of valuables.  The idea made him almost dizzy with hope. If it was a break in, would they come if he screamed for help? Maybe he should…

Covering his mouth with both hands, he squeezed his eyes shut.  Thieves wouldn’t save him, they might kill him instead to make sure there were no witnesses. If he screamed for help and it was only Viktor upstairs, it might be even worse.  All he could do was listen as those heavy steps came closer, the sound of his pulse banging in his ears.  Yuuri sank into the darkest shadows, trying to hide and become invisible to anyone who came down those stairs.

The door above the steps opened with a loud creak and light spilled into the basement.  Legs came into view as a burly man descended the narrow stairs, ducking his head slightly and searching for something.  When he saw Yuuri huddled against the wall like a feral animal, he stopped, a slow smile creasing his ruddy face. As he came closer, Yuuri could smell a heady mix of alcohol and cigarettes on his breath.  There was an unpleasantness to the man’s smile, his eyes watery behind thick-framed glasses.

Yuuri flinched when the man spoke, spitting gruff words in Russian at him, his smile turning sour when he received no response.  He made a crude gesture, ordering Yuuri to get up from the floor and he did as he was told, shivering under his visitor’s hostile gaze.  As the man approached, Yuuri retreated a step and winced when thick fingers dug into his shoulder.  He was shoved backwards, his head knocked painfully against the steel pipe when the man grasped his wrists with one hand and pulled a roll of thick tape from his pocket.

“No, wait!” The tape wound tightly around his wrists and Yuuri’s knees gave out from pure fear, sliding gracelessly to the cold concrete. He was outright shaking now, unable to hide his unease. The stranger towered over him, grabbing a handful of Yuuri’s hair to twist his head to the side then running a sausage-like finger down his neck as if appraising the value of uncertain goods.

_Please, no…Viktor!  Viktor, help me!_

“Hey, Yuuri.”  Descending to the basement floor, Viktor’s presence filled the room, brightening the atmosphere like sunshine after heavy rain. “It was lonely down there, wasn’t it?” Wearing an immaculate overcoat and dressed for an enjoyable evening, Viktor’s smile was warm and his face slightly pink.  He raised a half-empty bottle of liquor to his lips and took a long swig before wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

“I thought you’d want a friend, so I brought him here.” Viktor put a casual arm over the stranger’s shoulder, leaning into him as he peered down at Yuuri. The man shrugged expressively, speaking low and quickly to Viktor, who burst out laughing and slapped him on the back. Taking a seat on the workbench near the stairs, he crossed his legs and regarded Yuuri with an unsettling smile.

“This guy’s pretty funny,” he told Yuuri, sipping again from his bottle.  “So, I thought why don’t we all have some fun together?”  Yuuri whimpered as the stranger came at him again, roughly binding Yuuri’s elbows so that he could no longer bend his arms or defend himself.  Viktor sat silently watching as the cuff on Yuuri’s ankle was removed, its long chain strung from the ceiling and looped between his bound hands.  As his arms were raised above his head, Yuuri felt the air being squeezed from his chest, each breath becoming more difficult as sickening terror paralyzed his body.

_This isn’t happening, I can’t do this!_

“Why are you so quiet, Yuuri?” Viktor came over to kneel in front of him, touching his face with warm fingers.  “It’s going to be awkward if you won’t say anything. Don’t hurt Uncle’s feelings!”

_Uncle?_ Yuuri’s lips trembled, forcing himself to speak.  “H…he’s your uncle?”

Viktor grinned, flicking the tip of Yuuri’s nose with his finger.  “Sort of, he’s an old friend of my father’s.  I’ve known him since when I was small, so I call him uncle.”  Holding Yuuri’s face in his palm, Viktor forced him to look up at the older man who fixed him with a scornful glare.  “I already told him all about you, so say hello!”

“He-hello…” Even his voice sounded pitifully weak and Uncle’s lip curled in disgust.

Viktor ruffled his hair with an affectionate hand. “That’s better. Uncle has always been there for my family, even cleaning up after messy things happen.” With a peaceful expression, he leaned his cheek on his fist and met Yuuri’s eyes.  “I told him you were blackmailing me.”

“What?!” Yuuri twisted his body, trying to look at Viktor’s uncle hovering behind him. “That’s not true, I didn’t do anything!”

The chain yanked him upwards and Yuuri cried out as his arms were wrenched back, his feet kicking helplessly.  His shoulders and wrists were on fire as he thrashed around, unable to control his body. Viktor caught him as he dangled like a frightened rabbit in a snare, slowly lowering him until his feet almost touched the floor.

“It doesn’t matter what you say,” Viktor told him in a kindly voice, “Uncle only speaks Russian.  Even if he understood you, he wouldn’t believe anything you told him.” Gentle as a father at a playground, Viktor pushed Yuuri so that he swung from his wrists again and started to slowly rotate.  Yuuri’s toes scrabbled on the concrete floor, trying unsuccessfully to slow his spin.

“Stop this,” he begged, so scared he could hardly force the words out. “I promise I won’t try to leave…I…I still want to skate with you, Viktor!”

Sighing with deep disappointment, Viktor turned away.  “I knew you’d say that, Yuuri,” he replied in a sorrowful voice.  “It’s what you always say, so how can I believe you this time?” Without turning around, he raised his hand for a moment, then let it drop.

A vicious slap burned across his lower back and Yuuri screamed, his body twisting away from the pain.  It felt like the skin had been torn from his flesh, the sting of that heavy hand still throbbing.  Viktor leaned against the stairs, watching Yuuri suffer without a hint of concern.  At the young man slowly recovered, Viktor smiled at the loathing in Yuuri’s eyes, the betrayal.

“Such a passionate expression, so full of emotion,” Viktor praised him, a sliver of warmth in his voice. “Uncle is the best at getting people to be honest and he hates liars. So be very careful not to make him angry.” A menacing presence from behind made Yuuri tremble, sweat already dripping down his chest and stomach, then he heard a soft _shhick_ like a knife being pulled from a sheath.

“Please…tell me what you want!”

A thick finger touched the small of Yuuri’s back, hooking into waistband of his underwear and dragging them from his hips.  He felt sick, nauseated by fear, and a flush spread from his neck to his ears as his genitals were exposed to the clammy air. 

_Oh god, oh god no_ … “Viktor!”

A lash of pain struck his ass and Yuuri bit his lip until it bled, staring fixedly at Viktor’s calm face.  He clamped his jaw tightly, enduring another one, two…five or six strikes from something hard and flexible as a whip until his buttocks felt like raw meat.  Yuuri wasn’t even sure why he was afraid to cry out again, instinct whispering it would only inflame the cruelty of the man abusing him.

Uncle spun him around so that Viktor could inspect the mess he’d made of the tender flesh.  Yuuri hung his head as they spoke, trying to catch his breath.  Viktor’s voice light and elegant, clear as ice, but Uncle’s voice was thicker, gravel mixed with cold oil. His ass was burning as if he’d sat on hot coals, deep tissue bruising made his muscles twitch compulsively as sweat or blood slipped down the back of his thighs.

“Uncle is not impressed, I think he wanted to hear you scream,” Viktor smiled as Yuuri was turned to face him again.  “I told him you were strong willed, but not to break bones, so don’t worry.” His bright and eager expression cast the rest of the basement into shadow, Yuuri’s sweat and pain turning sour like wine left in sunlight.

“I…” He was in too much pain and misery to think clearly.  “I can’t…I can’t…”

Viktor nodded and Yuuri couldn’t hold back his shriek when the slender flail cut across his belly.  He saw it this time, a flexible bit of metal that extended like an old-fashioned car antenna.  A few beads of blood appeared where he’d been hit, the skin turning bright red.

“You think I’m being cruel to you?” Viktor folded his arms, waiting patiently for Yuuri to pull himself together. Signaling his intent with a flick of his fingers, Viktor had Yuuri raised another two feet from the floor. The chain creaked ominously, each link scraping over the metal fixture in the ceiling. His wrists had gone numb from supporting his weight, but the pain in his shoulders was only a dull ache compared to the throbbing welts.

“Naughty boys need to be disciplined for their own good, don’t you agree, Yuuri?”

_What do I …what does he want me to say_ … Panting hard as a dog in the hot sun, he shook his head to clear what was left of his mind and…

Another vicious slash to his stomach made him scream, his legs flailing uncontrollably.  Spinning slowly from his numb wrists, the pain and movement made him feel light-headed, sick but he couldn’t even retch.  Uncle struck him again, painting his ribs with marks that oozed thick drops of blood. Watching calmly from the sidelines, Viktor seemed neither pleased nor upset as Yuuri wept incoherently for mercy.

Barely to breathe through the all-consuming pain, Yuuri opened his eyes when Viktor touched him, his soft fingertips tracing the livid welts.  “Isn’t it time to stop being so stubborn? If you try to play this game with Uncle, you will surely lose.”

Eyes bright as the sun on water, Viktor gazed up at him. “I want to trust you, Yuuri, and I want you to trust me. This was just a little falling out, right? I’m still your coach, so I know you didn’t mean to run away from me.”

His throat felt thick after so much screaming.  “I’m sorry,” he husked, meaning every word.  “I won’t…I won’t do it again.” Viktor’s warm smile soothed him until he felt almost giddy and a tiny bit of hope shimmered like a jewel in the darkness.  _He wants to be my coach, he wants me to skate again_.  That he was still special to Viktor was the most comforting feeling he’d had in days.  Only…

Something was wrong.  The smile faded from Viktor’s lips as he turned away. “I don’t know how else I can say it,” he mused, moving away from Yuuri.  “Obviously, you still doubt me, even though I’m going so far for you.” He pulled a box of tools from a shelf, shaking the contents before returning to his uncle’s side.  

Ignoring Yuuri’s frightened whimpers, Uncle selected a pair of rubber-handled pliers.  The man stood in front of him, holding up the pliers to that Yuuri could see them clearly.  Taking a cigarette lighter from his coat, he held the metal tip to the flame, its flickering light a sinister reflection in the man’s glasses. Yuuri’s entire body went ice-cold, dread freezing even the pain from his welts and lacerations as his throat closed tightly around a silent scream.

_No!_

“It hurts, you know,” Viktor said, idly taking a large, heavy wrench from the box of tools.  Holding it lightly, he jabbed and parried with the shadows of the basement, as graceful as a dancer on stage. “You still don’t trust me, Yuuri.  Even if I would do anything for you, anything you ask!”

“Viktor…” The rasp of his voice was more of a croak than plea.  Yuuri couldn’t take his eyes off the glowing tip of the pliers, his stomach clenched so tight against the panic that it felt as if his organs were twisting. The lighter snapped shut, disappearing into Uncle’s pocket as the man took a step closer.  Desperate, Yuuri kicked with both legs, thrashing violently as if he could somehow outrun the torture.

Slipping in front of his uncle, Viktor wrapped his arm around Yuuri to stop his frantic struggles.  “Shhh…” he murmured, stroking the back of Yuuri’s uninjured legs. “Calm down, you’re going to upset Uncle if you fight like this.”

“Viktor…” He couldn’t catch his breath; his heart racing and every part of his body was trembling. “Viktor…Viktor, please…”

“Ah, you’re still calling my name.” Groaning softly in the back of his throat, Viktor pressed his face into Yuuri’s thighs.  “I’m the only one in the world for you, yes?”

“Please, save me…I’m scared, Viktor.” All he could do now was beg, he had nothing left, even his will to fight was stripped of him and his tears spilled onto Viktor’s hair where they sparkled like frost on glass.

“Ha…” Amused, Viktor let go of Yuuri, leaving him to hang like a limp rag from his wrists.  “Ha ha…again with save me, save me.” He glanced over his shoulder with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “What exactly are you asking me to do?”

“I…” The chain above his head suddenly released and Yuuri fell hard to the floor.  Moaning, he tried to turn on his stomach when Uncle grabbed a handful of his hair and forcibly pulled him to his knees.  Barking at him in angry Russian, Uncle seemed to be out of patience and Yuuri shook his head wildly as the man shouted and spit into his face.

“Again, Yuuri, what are you asking me to do?” Sounding bored with their game, Viktor didn’t even look at him as Uncle attacked Yuuri with slaps and sharp blows to his face.  “You keep saying to save you, but I want you to be clear.”

“Stop him!” Yuuri screamed, ducking away from Uncle’s fists.  He fell forward, huddling against the floor as best he could to protect himself. A heavy foot slammed down on his bound arms and Yuuri collapsed, sobbing again for Viktor to do something, help him, save him before…

“Should I kill him for you, Yuuri?”

He raised his bruised face, eyes wide and stunned.  For Yuuri, everything around him went hazy, the harsh voice that shouted so angrily faded away and became dark water pouring over his head. Without the strength or will to fight back, he was manhandled to his knees with Uncle’s heavy hand clamped around his neck.

_Kill him…for me?_

Uncle held Yuuri upright as Viktor crouched in front of him. “Maybe that is how I should prove my love,” Viktor murmured, wiping Yuuri’s tears with the back of fingers.  “If that’s what you want, I’ll do as you ask. All you need to do is say it.”

The hand on his neck clenched, slowly forcing his face to the floor again.  With Uncle’s knee on his back, Yuuri felt his chest grow tight, the pain of lash marks grinding against cold concrete.  His vision wavered as Yuuri struggled for air, crushed under the heavy weight of a burly man, when a glimmer of shining metal flashed in front of his eyes.

“You’re out of time, Yuuri.”

_I can’t move!_ Yuuri’s wheezing gasps seemed unnaturally loud as a knife traced his cheek, sliding behind his ear.  _I can’t breathe!_

He heard a husky laugh, Uncle’s voice asking Viktor…asking Viktor if he should finish Yuuri now. Yuuri couldn’t understand the words but there was no mistaking the sharp edge of the blade held under his jaw, right where a quick, deep cut would end him quickly and his suffering would be over.

_No! I still want to live!_ Gathering all the strength he had, Yuuri raised his head to scream. 

“Kill him! Please, Viktor! Kill him right now!”

Rising up like a devil escaping from hell, Viktor came from behind Uncle, teeth flashing in a wide, ecstatic smile.  The wrench made a sickening thud when it struck the back of his uncle’s head and a thin line of blood dripped from the man’s nostril before he fell heavily to the floor. Everything around Yuuri went dark and he heard Viktor start to laugh, the sound as bright and sharp as a blade against ice.

_**/killing skating9** _


	10. killing skating10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more abuse, squicky kinda sex scene, blood

_**killing skating10** _

The car pulled into the parking lot with the crunching sound of gravel under tires.  Yuuri sat quietly in the passenger seat and didn’t raise his head until Viktor turned off the engine.  Unlike before when he’d locked Yuuri away in the trunk, Viktor drove carefully, holding an even speed and slowing properly before turning so that his passenger wasn’t jostled.

Before they’d left the house, Viktor even made sure to dress Yuuri in a warm coat, wrapping a soft woolen scarf around his neck to hide the bandages. Although it was late spring, the morning air still had a bite to it like a dog toying with the last remnants of a winter bone.  Yuuri stared blank-eyed at his own hands, barely aware they’d arrived at the rink.  After waiting a few moments, Viktor sighed dramatically and reached over to unbuckle Yuuri’s seat belt.

“Do I have to do this for you too?” His voice carried a little mild annoyance, but Viktor’s touch was gentle as he lifted Yuuri’s chin and turned his head.  “Are you too sore to practice today?”

His lips parted and he spoke as if on auto-pilot. “I’m okay.”

Moving closer, Viktor leaned his head against Yuuri’s chest, soft hair tickling the underside of Yuuri’s chin. “I’m glad, Yuuri. There’s still so many things we haven’t done together.”

He didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until Viktor pulled away, a sense of visceral relief made his armpits clammy.  He was cold where Viktor had touched him, burning cold like bare nerves against frozen steel.  His discomfort didn’t show in his face, watching impassively as Viktor reached behind the seat for their skate cases.

“Take your time,” Viktor told him, getting out of the car into bright sunshine that hurt Yuuri’s eyes. “I’ll be inside getting set up, so there’s no hurry.” He turned away, slinging the cases over his shoulder and started to close the car door, then ducked his head to peer down at Yuuri.

“Ah, I forgot to tell you something,” he smiled, teeth glinting sharply, “don’t piss me off. You’ve been cutting it close these days.”

The door shut and Yuuri’s shoulders slumped against the seat. He wasn’t in pain, not really. He couldn’t feel much of anything, not pain nor even fear.  It was like his entire mind and body were wrapped in a thick, smothering blanket and the outside world was no more real than a drama on television.

_It’s most likely shock._ He was so numb inside that even his thoughts were sluggish, dull and muddy.  Yes, he was grateful to be alive, the marks and bruises were fading slowly. Physically, he could be doing much worse. His mental state was an entirely different matter.  Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the blood running over his hands.  When he tried to eat, the stench of it flooded his nostrils and made him weak with nausea.  Only by closing off his thoughts, shutting down his emotions, could he pretend to function normally.

_I don’t want to skate with you_ , Yuuri thought, pressing his cheek against the cold glass of the window. _I hate you too much now, Viktor_.

***

 

He’d passed out in the basement. Being hung by his wrists and beaten, tortured and terrorized, whatever had been keeping him conscious collapsed after he saw Viktor strike down his sadistic uncle.  The reprieve of unconsciousness was brief and before long, Yuuri was coming to his senses with great discomfort and unpleasant clarity.

“What…what’s going on?” he managed to ask, his head pillowed on something soft, body aching in waves that rolled through him like a frustrated tide.  The throbbing from his backside was particularly intense, eliciting a gasp of surprise when a cooling spray was applied to his skin.

“Don’t move, Yuuri.  I’m not done treating you just yet.”

“I…ssss!!” His voice turned into a hiss as a bandage was plastered to his ass cheek. He raised his head, trying to twist around and see damage for himself.  His arms were still taped together, but he had feeling in his hands again since he wasn’t strung up like a piece of meat.  Now he was face down across something thick and solid that gave slightly under his weight.  Turning his head, he recognized a dark coat, a stubbly, fleshy face and…

Yuuri screamed and threw himself to the side, ignoring the pain from his bandaged wounds as he frantically tried to put distance between himself and Uncle’s still body.  His heart was pounding so hard that it was causing a dull ache at the base of his skull.  Viktor only clucked his tongue in disapproval before pulling the trembling Yuuri into a gentle embrace.

“It’s okay,” he soothed, wiping Yuuri’s sweaty face.  “He’s not going to hurt you, Yuuri.  Look, he’s not even awake right now.”

“Awake?”  He felt stupid and helpless, cowering in Viktor’s arms as though he wasn’t the real source of all Yuuri’s misery.  “He’s not…dead?”

Viktor chuckled, shaking his head and continuing to stroke Yuuri as if comforting a frightened kitten.  “No, he’s still very much alive.  Who knew the old man had such a hard head, eh?  It’s impressive!”

Shivering compulsively, Yuuri didn’t find it impressive at all. He was sore and cold, completely exhausted…if he wasn’t going to die today then he wanted clothes and a warm bed.  Trying not to make himself sound even more pitiful, he gathered enough strength to push away from Viktor and raise his head.

“Can…can I go upstairs now?” He didn’t care what Viktor planned to do with his disgusting uncle, desperately wanting to put the nightmare to an end.  Aware that his punishment and the reprieve were intended to crush any last dregs of rebellious behavior, he was ready to comply and just submit to whatever Viktor wanted.

_Please, don’t leave me down here!_

“Yuuri,” Viktor murmured, sweetly kissing the top of his head, “of course we’re going upstairs.  I’ll make you supper and a hot cup of tea, then right into bed with you.  I’m sure you’re very tired, but first…”

Slipping his arm under Yuuri’s legs, Viktor rose up on his knees to shuffle closer to the unconscious man.  “First, we deal with Uncle before he wakes up and gets angry with me.”

“No, don’t!” Yuuri’s voice squeaked when he was suddenly tossed on top of Uncle, trying to prop himself up with his bound arms while Viktor positioned his legs.  He squirmed uncomfortably, bare skin crawling in revulsion. Staring at Uncle’s face, Yuuri felt disgust like a hard knot in his belly, a loathing unmitigated by the man’s pallor and the blood crusted under his nose.

“You don’t need to be so tense,” Viktor told him, slipping behind him to wrap both arms around Yuuri’s waist.  “Are you forgetting what you told me to do?”

_Kill him!_

“No,” he whispered, cringing a little as Viktor cuddled him oppressively. “I didn’t forget.”

“Good.” He could feel a smile against his bare shoulder, warm breath tickling the back of his neck.  If Viktor was pleased, Yuuri reasoned, he should be safe for now.  He relaxed slightly as the arms around him loosened and Viktor leaned away.

_Don’t argue, don’t fight him_ , Yuuri whispered to himself in a silent prayer.  _If I’m going to survive, no matter what I have to_...

“Here, I’ve brought you a present.”

His mouth went dry as the handle of a knife was inserted between his palms.  With swift, deft movements, Viktor cupped his hands and wound a strip of tape over his knuckles.  Unable to bend his arms, Yuuri sat still as a little feral animal, waiting for death to fall upon him from the sky.

“Now.” Viktor clapped his hands, a festive sound that clashed with the violence in his eyes. “It’s time for you to finish the job!”

Horrified, Yuuri twisted around to stare at Viktor’s gleeful face.  “You…you want me to…no way, there’s no way I can kill him!”

His happy mood suddenly spoiled by Yuuri’s reluctance, Viktor’s grin faded.  “I don’t know why you’re finding it so hard,” he grumbled.  He shoved the back of Yuuri’s head, grabbing his hair as Yuuri barely managed to keep the knife from slicing into Uncle’s coat. 

“Look at him,” Viktor ordered, reaching down to whisk the older man’s glasses from his face.  “Even asleep he looks dangerous, doesn’t he?  Didn’t he enjoy hurting you? I doubt you’ll feel bad even if you stab him in the face.”

_I don’t feel bad, but I can’t!_   Yuuri shook his head, his eyes stinging. Even if the sight of Uncle made him sick, he was no murderer.  He’d been terrified out of his mind, sure he was about to die when he’d screamed for Viktor to save him.  Even now his stomach twisted, thinking of how he’d cried out, his desperate, awful words.

_Kill him now!_

“Oy, I should have expected this,” Viktor said, crouching beside the trembling Yuuri.  Slipping on Uncle’s glasses, the thick frames were a jarring sight on his handsome face.  “I’m working this hard for you and getting nothing in return. How disappointing.”

The light glinted on the surface of his glasses and cast the rest of his face in sinister shadow. “Should I leave you here, then? If you don’t have the strength deal with a little thing like this, how do you expect to win the Grand Prix Final?”

Yuuri could feel the angry side of Viktor’s nature starting to surface.  Its menace filled the room, the pressure like a cord that wrapped around Yuuri’s throat until his mind went blank with panic.

“Help me,” he whispered.

“Hm?” Viktor rested his chin on his hand, pretending to not understand Yuuri’s soft plea. “Is there something you want to ask?”

“I... I can’t do it by myself.” _Mom, Dad...forgive me!_ “Help me, Viktor...”

Viktor smiled and gently kissed his cheek. “Of course I will. I’m your coach, after all!”

Settling behind him again, Viktor took Yuuri’s bound arms and held them out straight. “I’ll guide you so just hold on to the knife,” he instructed, every bit as calm as when they practiced in the rink.  Yuuri’s trembling increased to the point where the tip of the blade shook wildly.  Holding him closer, Viktor licked his earlobe and caressed his shoulders.

“You’ll be fine,” he murmured, dropping tiny kisses on the back of Yuuri’s neck. Warm fingers stroked his arms, his chest, massaging away the tension that had frozen his muscles. Even though his mind was in chaos and his heart ached so badly it felt like it was torn apart, his body remembered Viktor’s touch and relaxed for him.

As Yuuri’s trembling eased, Viktor pressed him forward until the knife was pointed at Uncle’s throat. “Now, stop acting like a child, face your target,” he whispered, his seductive tone at odds with his words.  “You’re going to just go splat-splat and stab him quickly, Yuuri!”

His senses were full of Viktor, nerves tingling and throbbing until Yuuri was dizzy. He felt nothing but shame, self-loathing.  Sweat slipped down his neck and the air filled with musky dread.  Nothing, he could do nothing on his own!  He couldn’t kill to save himself, even if the victim was a bully and a sadist.  The sting of his wounds reminded him again of how helpless he was, so easily hurt, so weak to persuasion.

“I... can’t...” he choked out miserably.  “I’m sorry... I can’t...” 

As Yuuri bowed his head and sobbed, Viktor’s lips curved in satisfaction.  “What a crybaby,” he said, petting Yuuri’s hair with an affectionate hand.  “What am I supposed to do if I’m weak to your tears?”

He searched through his pockets for a few moments, keeping one hand on Yuuri’s back as if the younger man might crumble at any time. Pulling out a soft handkerchief, he folded it neatly before slipping it over Yuuri’s eyes.

“See, it’s not so scary, is it?”

Blindfolded, Yuuri felt a chill move down his spine. He shivered, fingers closing tight around the handle of the knife, panting heavily as if he were starved for oxygen.  _Is this really happening? I can’t do this!_

“Wow, look at that sweat,” Viktor murmured, pushing close to him from behind.  Yuuri cringed as Viktor’s tongue ran up the side of his neck, sucking lightly as if he were savoring every drop of Yuuri’s fear. Hands roamed over his bare skin, pinching and kneading everywhere Yuuri was sensitive before dropping to rest on his hips.

“Don’t tell me you can’t even do this?” Viktor teased, dragging his fingernails down the inside of Yuuri’s thighs until he quivered.  “All you have to do is lean into him, the knife will do the rest.”

“I hate knives,” Yuuri whimpered, his hips jerking as Viktor continued to fondle between his legs. “I’m scared, please stop it!”

With a grunt of annoyance, Viktor dragged Yuuri to his knees, holding him upright over Uncle’s body, silencing his frightened cries with a hand over his mouth.

“Shhh,” he said, one arm tight around Yuuri’s chest, keeping him steady. “I think you woke him.”

Uncle’s body suddenly jerked in a quick spasm, the movement followed by a sickening groan.  Yuuri was so scared he would have fainted dead away if Viktor wasn’t holding him up.  Viktor laughed to himself, burrowing his face into Yuuri’s back as one hand traveled down to his captive’s groin and took a firm hold of his penis.

“This is fun,” Viktor murmured, stroking him as if there was the slightest possibility that Yuuri could get hard in this situation.  “What a sight you must look, Yuuri, so erotic.  I really hope the old bastard opens his eyes...”

Squeezing him, Viktor bucked his hips and rubbed his pelvis against Yuuri’s sore buttocks. It hurt, but Yuuri refused to cry out again, instead biting his lower lip until he tasted his own blood.  The pain at least distracted him from the rough groping of his privates, sweat making Viktor’s fingers slick as he prodded and toyed with Yuuri’s testicles.

“Hold yourself still,” Viktor hissed, his breath like a splash of acid, burning but carnally sweet.  It took all Yuuri’s strength to keep from toppling over, the well-developed muscles of his legs clenched tight.  He twisted his head, trying to dislodge to the blindfold and see if Uncle was really conscious.  The fear was fading quickly, replaced by revulsion as Viktor continued to grind their hips in a grotesque parody of sex.

“Did you know this, Yuuri? Uncle despises homosexuals, you should have seen his face when I told him my male lover had betrayed me and blackmailed me for money. He could not wait to get his hands on you...”

_This is sick, so disgusting..._

The movement stopped, letting Yuuri catch his breath as he swayed in Viktor’s arms.  For a moment, he wondered if it was over, if Viktor was finished with dragging this out. His knees hurt from the cold concrete floor, his crotch felt like sticky, raw meat. Then he heard the sound of Viktor unzipping his pants.

“Don’t!” he shrieked, unable to hold still any longer.  Viktor pulled on his hips, using his elbow on Yuuri’s back to force him to bend over. He went face down, arms stretched in front of him and felt the hot tip of Viktor’s erection slide under his balls. As he thrust his hips into Yuuri’s, Viktor sighed with pleasure.

“Is it good, Yuuri?” he asked, smiling as he locked their bodies together, his hard flesh slick and hot as it slipped into the crevice between Yuuri’s thighs.  “This makes me feel so close to you, I know you feel it too.”

What Yuuri felt was suffocated, barely able to breathe as he was shoved with considerable force by Viktor’s thrusting, his dick starting to tingle and throb from the friction between his legs. It was humiliating to the extreme and he wanted to cry, but he couldn’t make a sound. He twisted his hips to protest when Viktor touched him, stroking him feverishly as if he was driven to make Yuuri come no matter how appalled or ashamed he felt.

“Stay with me, Yuuri. It’s almost time...”

His knees slid out from under him, no longer able to support the weight of their bodies.  Viktor pushed him hard, shoving Yuuri down on the body below them.  The rough drag of his semi-erect penis was too much and Yuuri whimpered, spilling onto Uncle’s coat.  Panting, he turned his face to the side when Viktor pulled away, heard him working himself furiously.  Warm fluid dripped across his sweaty back and Yuuri heard Viktor sigh with relief.

“Yuuri...” Viktor stroked his hair lovingly, caressing his face as he pulled away the blindfold.  “Yuuri, look what you’ve done...”

He opened his eyes, blinking as they tried to focus in the dim light of the basement. Finally, he raised his head and looked down at the knife between his red-stained hands.  It was buried up to his fingers in gore, Uncle’s slashed-open throat gaping obscenely as blood pooled under them.  Not only his hands, but his arms were covered in bright stains he’d never felt, even his face was splattered by droplets of pure carmine red.

Viktor pulled Yuuri up, dislodging the knife with a sickening squelch and fresh blood leaked onto the floor.  Yuuri was like a doll in his arms, unmoving, unspeaking even as Viktor used the stained knife to cut away the tape on Yuuri’s wrists and elbows.  His arms hung limply at his sides as Viktor held him close, rubbing his face against Yuuri’s shoulder in pure contented bliss.

“Human blood’s really warm, isn’t it?”  He wiped his hand across Yuuri’s face, smearing him with more of that warm human blood as Yuuri stared wide-eyed Uncle’s corpse.

***

_How was it? Your first killing_.

Yuuri jerked awake, relieved that he had dozed off in the car instead of finding himself in the basement again.  Scratching his head, he wondered how much time had passed. Not all that much or Viktor would have come looking for him.

There had been times in his life when skating was the only thing that mattered.  It had been his dream, his escape, his way of dealing with the world.  If he was skating, everything else faded into the background as all of his focus was directed for one purpose.  To get better, to push harder, achieve more.

Practice.  Competition. Winning.  And sometimes losing, but that was all right as long as it spurred the motivation to work his ass off because...Yuuri really hated to lose.

He got out of the car and slowly trudged to the entrance, shoulders hunched as if a terrible weight was upon him, something unmentionable and burdensome. For the first time, skating was no longer his escape.

That was why he hated Viktor. The man who had inspired him for years was the same man who had stolen his dreams.  He couldn’t look at the ice without seeing the blood underneath the surface. Viktor had ruined it, ruined him. Now with no dream to live for, he had no passion either, and no inspiration to take his skating to the next level.

Without inspiration, he might as well be dead as a competitive skater.

“I have to do this,” he whispered into the cold darkness.  “If I don’t skate, he’s going to kill me.  If I don’t want to die, if I want to see my family again, I have to find a way to move forward.”

He pushed the door open, stepping inside and stopping to let his eyes adjust.  The old-fashioned box office and the faded posters on the wall looked ominous in the soft light from outdoors.  Yuuri sighed deeply, stiffened his shoulders and let the doors close behind him.

Only...this time they didn’t close all the way and before he had taken another step, he was viciously kicked from behind.  He tumbled ass over end and hit the floor hard.  Sprawled face up on the worn carpeting, Yuuri raised his head to see a slender young man bearing down on him with murder in his eyes.

“It’s all your fault!” Grinding a sneaker-clad foot into his forehead, a furious face framed by silky blond hair glowered down at him.

“Apologize!”

_**/killing skating10** _


End file.
